Blinded by the Light
by nsarraf
Summary: Hermione faces new challenges through the summer and 7th year, and as evil builds outside school walls, she discovers new things inside. Not good at summaries, more inside. Rating might be changed for later chapters.
1. First Encounter

**A/N: I'm not decided yet if I'm going to abandon my other HP fic, but here's something I think I'll probably end up finishing because I've got most of it done already.**

** Anyways, I hope you enjoy:)**

**Elaborated Plot: Sixth year passes, and in the summer after sixth year, Lord Voldemort is finally defeated. Hermione is disturbed on her vacation with her parents to be told that it isn't over: a new lord has risen. Unfortunately for her, things aren't exactly going right in her personal life; and when seventh year rolls around, she's confused and doubtful. She's doubting herself, and her friends, and questioning things she had never questioned before. It doesn't help that some people are acting strangely, and some things aren't always as they seem.**

**Sorry, I'm not so brilliant at summaries--read, though! It'll be worth it:)  
**

**Disclaimer: Everything belongs to me. haha. I wish. If it were up to me, we all know who would end up together in the seventh book...;) Anyways, sadly enough, my plot is the only thing I own. Everything else belongs to the great and only, J. K. Rowling. not affiliated with the Rolling Stones, which I am currently listening to! How funny.**

**All right. Here we go.**

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_Made up my mind to make a new start,  
Going to california with an aching in my heart.  
Someone told me theres a girl out there  
With love in her eyes and flowers in her hair._

-Going to California-

.Led Zeppelin.

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Hermione sat at her desk, tapping her quill against her parchment thoughtfully. Her Potions book sat open before her, but she had yet to make sense of anything.

"Hermione!" Harry sauntered into the common room. "You've been working all day. Care to take a break?"

Hermione started to shake her head, but Harry quickly cut her off. "Let me rephrase that. You're taking a break."

Hermione couldn't help but laugh—but then her face grew serious. "I have to get this done. I—"

"We _all_ do," Harry reminded her. "But we are all also finding time to take a break. Remember those?"

Hermione laughed again and swept some her thick brown hair behind one ear. "All right, fine, you win. Lead the way." She got up.

Harry grinned, and the two headed through the hallways towards the front doors of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

"Oh, but I don't know…." Hermione suddenly began again. "Finals are just so soon! You lot aren't nearly as concerned as you should be." She added sternly.

"In a month and a half, you mean?" Harry asked amusedly, ignoring the latter comment, as they emerged out on the emerald green front lawn.

Hermione waved the fact away. "You and your picky details!"

Harry was about to respond, but was cut off. "You made it! See that, guys! Harry really _is_ the Golden Boy. He managed to get Hermione out of her hellhole!" Freckle-faced, flame-haired Ron Weasley shouted exuberantly.

Hermione looked scandalized. "A place that has books can_not_ be a devil's hole!" She protested, refusing to swear.

Ron smirked. "Oh, yeah? What about the dungeons? I'm pretty sure they have books."

"Oh, stuff it!" She replied crossly. She turned to Neville Longbottom, one of the sweetest, most innocent boys she knew. "How are you?"

"Not so bad." Surprisingly enough, it seemed true, too.

"Good. And everyone else?" It seemed like days since she had seen everyone—and maybe it had been.

The spring breeze blew lazily, perfectly matching the mild temperature. The air almost seemed to sparkle with joviality; everything was so _alive_. Hermione sat in the grass by the lake and settled her back against a tree.

"Hermione, there's a Hogsmeade trip in a couple—"

"No." She immediately answered.

"But—"

"No." Hermione looked at Ginny Weasley, who had just asked. "I have to study! And you do too! Well…not so much as these boys." She gestured towards the other sixth years.

"Study, my arse!" Ginny huffed.

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me. You're going, understood? Okay. Fine. Here's something you can learn, but not from a book: _relaxing_. Happy? You're still going to learn something."

Hermione only rolled her eyes, but it seemed to satisfy Ginny.

Hermione stared out at the placid lake, which sparkled and shone like there were a million tiny diamonds glittering just below its surface. The sun shone profusely, set against a sapphire-blue sky. It was a beautiful day, and plenty of students were milling about on the grounds.

How had she almost missed this?

Once again came the battle between books and friends. Her books were practically calling her, telling her she better study if she wanted to do well on the finals and get her dream job.

And then there were the N.E.W.T.'s, next year. She shuddered just thinking about it, but then also felt that familiar thrill.

"So a month and a half till finals, and then summer," Lavender recounted dreamily, as everyone settled into a sort of circle on the grass.

"I'm off to Ireland," Seamus Finnigan announced. "To visit me grandparents."

"Lucky bloke," Ron muttered darkly. "I reckon you'll be off to the Quidditch World Cup."

Seamus nodded and grinned. After everything that had happened during fourth year, the QWC was back.

"That doesn't sound like such a bright idea," Hermione noted.

"Ah, Hermione," Dean Thomas sighed dramatically. "You worry enough for all of us _and_ everyone who'll be there."

Hermione laughed. "I know. I need to relax, right?"

"Right!" Everyone shouted in unison.

"_Right_!" A cold, taunting voice cut in. "You all sound like you're in a bloody production."

"I'm surprised you even know what that is," Hermione shot back.

Draco Malfoy curled his lips up into a smirk. "Good one, Mudblood. Shall we clap?"  
"Can someone get me a cage? The Amazing Bouncing Ferret seems to have escaped again." She said venomously, and the others could practically _hear_ her rolling her eyes.

"_I've_ escaped? Enlighten me on how your magnificent friends dragged you out of your bookworm's paradise on this fine Saturday."

"Enlighten me on why you're standing here, ruining my Saturday." She returned malevolently.

Malfoy's smirk remained. "It _so_ entertains me. Thank you very much, Mudblood." He bowed slightly, and looked around. "Potty, Weasel." He turned and kept walking, flanked by his goons, Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle.

Hermione unclenched her jaw and let out a fierce breath, watching them stroll along with her spiteful gaze. "That stupid _prick_! He's got to ruin everything, hasn't he?"

Harry and Ron both glared after him, but eventually they all began to talk and laugh again, and Hermione forgot all about Malfoy, and somehow, she managed to learn a thing or two about relaxing.

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**A/N: I know this first chapter isn't too interesting, but it gets better. This is just setting the tone, and if I added in the next chunk it would be wayy too long. So...let me know what you think:)**


	2. She's Got the Look

**Chapter 2**

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_ She's got the look._

_ She's got the look._

_ What in the world can make a brown-eyed girl turn blue. _

_ When everything I'll ever do I'll do for you_

_ and I go: la la la la la she's got the look._

-She's Got the Look-

.Roxette.

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"Three weeks!"

Hermione was so nervous, she felt like she might explode. Of course, on the outside she kept up a façade of being totally calm and level-headed….

If only.

"Stop hyperventilating on my ear!" Malfoy hissed from in front of her.

It was Charms, and deaf Professor Flitwick couldn't really see past his podium anyways.

Hermione grinned at Harry, her tablemate, and leaned forward and intentionally blew on Malfoy's ear. "You _know_ you like it," she whispered as seductively as she could, and instantly feared that she sounded like a…little girl. She blushed furiously at her own audacity, but luckily, Malfoy couldn't see her; at least, not yet.

Malfoy fully turned to give her a disgusted glare. "Keep your dirty, _immature_ breath to yourself, Granger. It might taint me."

Hermione flashed a brilliant grin, ignoring the fact that her cheeks were still flaming. "Good."

Malfoy turned back around just as class ended. Harry and Hermione gathered their things and headed towards lunch.

"Brilliant," Harry commented as they walked. "Never knew you had it in you."

Hermione smiled, her chocolate brown eyes twinkling. "That would make two of us."

The Great Hall was fairly empty when they reached. "Where's everybody?" Hermione asked passively as they sat down.

"Hogsmeade," Ginny replied. She and Seamus were waiting for them. "They decided to let us go Friday afternoon after classes this time—they think _some people_, ahem," here she looked straight at Hermione "were getting to high-strung about exams. Anyways, we were chosen to wait for you two."

"You mean, to wait for Harry," Hermione corrected, ignoring her speech. "I have work to do."

"Um, no, you don't," Ginny replied instantly, trying to hide her exasperation. "I'll get you there if I have to drag you, kicking and screaming." Her voice suddenly grew determined.

"And I'll just run back home." Hermione laughed, watching as several Slytherins walked by, including Blaise Zabini and Pansy Parkinson. "Honestly, I've got so much—"

"Time later to study? Yeah, we know. So what's the problem?" Ginny grinned, an evil sparkle in her eye.

Hermione rolled her eyes. It was useless to argue with Ginny—the girl was just as stubborn as, well, _she_ was. Maybe even more. "Fine. But I am not staying till dark. And you are lucky that I don't have anymore classes after lunch today."

Ginny jumped up and clapped her hands. "Great! Then it's settled. Off we go."

Harry stuffed one more bite of pork chop in his mouth—apparently while the girls had been arguing, the boys had been chowing down. He and Hermione hurried up to the Gryffindor dorms to change and ditch their books, and then they all headed out to the road that led to Hogsmeade.

"We're walking today," Ginny announced cheerfully. It was another perfect spring day, and Hermione couldn't find any reason to dispute her.

It was warm out, the first week of May. Hermione's cloak had been so oppressive within the warmer-than-comfortable school, and for the first time, only the dungeons had given her relief. It felt good to be without the robes. The warm breeze ruffled her thick, wavy tresses, and she lifted it off the back of her neck to vent.

They headed to the Three Broomsticks, where Ron, Dean, Lavender, Parvati, and Neville were already sitting and sipping gillywater and sodas with cherry syrup, ice, and umbrellas.

"Come on, Lav and Par! Let's head off to Gladrags," Ginny urged.

Ron made a face. "_Gladrags_?"

Ginny turned on him. "_Yes_, Ronald, and you _weren't_ invited to come along." She told him icily, hands on hips.

Laughing, the girls emerged in the sunshine. Hermione wasn't thrilled with shopping, but she didn't complain as they walked.

Along the way, however, they spotted Honeydukes, and they couldn't pass it up.

"Licorice wands!" Lavender cried, immediately grabbing a handful.

Hermione decided on fudge, while Parvati got chocolate, and Ginny smirked at Hermione as she grabbed a box of sugar quills. Hermione made a face at her as they paid for their items.

"Fancy some Wheezes?" Ginny asked as they headed back outside.

There were nods all around, and the group headed into Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, owned by Ginny's older twin brothers, Fred and George.

"Fancy a Skiving Snackbox, anyone?" Parvati asked mischievously, holding one up.

"You're mental," Hermione told her. "You want me to _willingly_ give myself a fever?"

"But of course!" Fred Weasley strode up to them. "What better way to _skip class_ than a _completely_ curable vomiting lurgy?"

Hermione rolled her eyes and stalked off while everyone else enjoyed a hearty laugh.

They left after buying some things and inquiring about how Fred and George's new business was faring, to which they chimed together, "Smashing!"

Gladrags was closeby. They stepped inside, and Hermione immediately turned around to leave, but Ginny grabbed her shoulders and made her stay.

Malfoy was there with Pansy Parkinson.

Hermione pointedly looked the other way as she followed her friends through the store, watching them exclaim over average-looking items, bored out of her mind.

"This would look _so_ cute on you!" Lavender gushed, holing up a fitted crinkle twill jacket, wool miniskirt, and red halter that attached strings to it at a gold and red bead ring.

"Are you _kidding_ me?" Hermione nearly exploded, looking down at her own twill pants and somewhat shapeless shirt.

"No," Parvati put in stubbornly. "We aren't leaving till you try it on."

"Watch me," Hermione challenged, and started to leave; but Parvati and Ginny easily caught and held her, and steered her towards the fitting rooms.

Malfoy was still in the store. Curse him.

Pansy chose the _perfect_ moment to make that fact known. "Oy, Granger, where are your bodyguards? You might get _hurt_, although I don't see of what help Potty and Weasel could be."

Had she ever heard of a more half-witted attempt at an insult? She was pretty sure she hadn't. "Oh, Pansy, you're wearing so much clothing that I hardly recognized you!" Hermione returned mock-surprisedly. "And where are those two thick sidekicks of your date's? Don't feel safe without them; your date's manicure might actually get chipped without them there to help him along." She nodded sympathetically while her friends laughed.

"At least I _have_ a date! The only date you could get are those ruddy books of yours! And at least I don't dress like my mother!" Pansy shrieked wildly, already on the brink of hysterics.

It didn't take much to rile that girl up. Hermione grinned at the fun she was going to have. "At least I even dress at all." She said before disappearing into the fitting room.

She popped her head out ten minutes later, nervously. Eek—Malfoy and Parkinson were still there! She tried to whisper and motion to her friends, somewhat frantically, to come closer so the Slytherins wouldn't see, but they were obviously purposely "not hearing her."

She made a mental not to kill them later.

She felt like a fool when one salesgirl looked over and made a weird face at her as she continued to gesture blindly.

_Ah, whatever_, Hermione thought. _The worst they can do is laugh. Or tease. Or—oh, shut it_! She took a deep breath and stepped outside.

Lavender, Ginny, and Parvati were immediately looking at her. _So much for not noticing, guys_, Hermione thought bitterly, but as much as she hated to admit it, she was actually kind of nervous about what they would think. It took Malfoy and Parkinson a second, but soon they were looking, too.

Feeling hopelessly self-conscious, a feeling she didn't get much, Hermione made to duck back into the fitting room.

"Wait!" Ginny called, so she turned back.

They were all just looking for a few more minutes as Hermione fidgeted. "So?" She finally asked, hating how "on-display" she was.

"It's…different." Lavender said absently.

Hermione half-smiled. "It's that bad? I'll just go take it off and—"

"_No_!" Parvati said quickly. "What Lavender _means_," She glared at Lavender, "is that it looks good! Like, really, really, _really_ good."

"Yeah!" Ginny quickly agreed. "It'll knock the boys off their feet."

"Nothing's happened to me yet," Malfoy commented from the background with his usual malice.

"Well you're not a boy, now are you?" Lavender growled in his general direction.

"So you really think it looks good?" Hermione couldn't actually imagine wearing the _mini_skirt, which barely reached the end of her thighs, and halter anywhere, but it was a nice ego boost.

"You look like a penguin," Pansy sneered.

"That's rich, coming from you," She replied, giving her friends a look, like, _is she really that stupid_? And then she couldn't hold it anymore, and she burst out laughing. This topped it—this perfected her day. "A penguin? Honestly…even _you_ could do better than that."

Pansy made a face like she smelled something sour. "We're done here," She stonily told Malfoy, who obediently followed her out the door.

"Malfoy is such a _cute_ little puppy," Ginny commented.

Parvati grinned. "Think he'd chase his tail for us?"

"Shake your tail feather!" Lavender added as they laughed, shimmying a little. "Those Muggle CD's you gave me for Christmas are awesome, by the way, Hermione."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Yeah, you've only told me that about six hundred times."

"To more _serious_ matters, though, you should buy the outfit. It works." Lavender told her.

"When am I going to wear this?" She asked them. She still couldn't picture herself anywhere in it.

"We'll find something," Ginny promised. "Now come on, pay quickly. We have to go."

Did the girl not pay attention to the fact that Hermione had not agreed, or did she just not care? It really _was_ true that it was pointless to argue with Ginny—but still, she tried. Hermione quickly changed back, and then checked the prices. Her eyes widened—they were expensive!

"We'll all pitch in a bit," Parvati said. "That's how much we like it."

"Oh? Already devising plans to 'borrow' or steal it?" Hermione teased.

Lavender snorted. "Are you kidding? That shirt would make my stomach look like a gigantic apple. Of massive proportions."

"Oh, yeah. Because, you know, you just have so much fat on you." Ginny put in sarcastically. She pinched Lavender's stomach, and she barely could. "Don't even talk."

The girls paid and returned to the Three Broomsticks to meet the guys, who had gone off and down their own thing while the girls were gone. They weren't back yet.

"Wotcher, Hermione!" A voice called.

She turned to see a good friend of hers and Auror, Nymphadora Tonks, coming towards her. They were both members of the Order of the Pheonix.

Hermione smiled widely—today Tonks's hair was bright blue. "Hello. How are you?"

"Good, good. Nice day, isn't it?"

"Beautiful," She agreed. "What brings you to Hogsmeade?"

Tonks's face darkened. "Ruddy job of mine. I'll not say—just that I've been galumphing around like a workhorse all week."

Hermione laughed sympathetically. "Sorry to hear that. Sit down? Have a drink with us?" She gestured to her friends. "We're waiting for Harry and company."

Tonks chuckled. "Don't see why not." She sat down, but then instantly sprang upwards, as if the seat was hot to the touch. "Oy! I do see why not. I've got a date and I can't be late…." She began to sing, but then stopped. "Bye, everyone. Nice seeing you, Hermione."

"Nice to see you too, Tonks," She replied, but the woman was already gone, in a streak of dust and bright blue hair.


	3. Shine On, You Crazy Diamond

**A/N: No reviews yet, but I'm crossing my fingers...  
**

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**Chapter 3**

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**

_ Remember when you were young, you shone like the sun.  
Shine on you crazy diamond.  
Now there's a look in your eyes, like black holes in the sky.  
Shine on you crazy diamond.  
You were caught on the crossfire of childhood and stardom,  
blown on the steel breeze._

-Shine on You Crazy Diamond-

.Pink Floyd.

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Finals were two days away.

Hermione had stayed in the library most of the day, except when her friends had forcibly taken her to eat lunch.

She scribbled furiously on her parchment, hoping, _hoping_ that all the extra studying she was doing would help her get the high marks she wanted.

She forced herself to go to sleep when the library closed, so she wouldn't be tired for another day of cramming.

--

The day of finals dawned bright and sunny, which only deepened the students' pain. As they were shuffled and placed at their seats, every student except Hermione was staring wistfully out at the Hogwarts grounds, which looked so perfect and _empty_.

Hermione sat up straight and tall, ignoring the sorry slouches her classmates put forth. Her eyes were bright and energetic, ready to take on the challenge.

She was the first done, so she wandered outside alone, replaying the exams and trying to figure out if she might've gotten something wrong. She took a seat against her favorite tree right next to the lake, which she lazily ran her hand through. She felt much more renewed now, although she so badly wanted to know how she had done.

A shadow suddenly came over her, and she looked up, expecting to see Harry or Ron, but probably Harry since she was expecting he would finish before Ron.

She bit her lip to keep from groaning. "Malfoy, what do you want?"

"To enjoy your company, what else?" He smirked.

Hermione looked around the still-empty grounds.

He followed her gaze. "They'll all be a while. They still have more than half the time left."

She nodded. She and Malfoy were closer on an academic level than anyone she had ever known before. "Sit down, if you must." She still wasn't sure if this was one great big joke, or if he really was bored enough to want to talk to her.

Malfoy obliged, surprisingly enough. "Think you passed?"

Why was he being so civil? It was kind of freaking her out. She was waiting for the worms to start coming out of her mouth, or something like that. "Well…the one about the Reverberating Rigbys almost stumped me. And the difference between a wallowbat and willowbat almost threw me, but I hope I caught the—"

Malfoy held up a hand. "It's a very simple question, actually, Granger. Yes or no would do. And it might be better to talk slower when you'd actually like people to understand you."

Hermione felt the pink tinge her cheeks, but this was better, because this was the real Malfoy, and she felt safer like this. "Yes." She said calmly.

"Excellent." Malfoy leaned backwards against another tree, hands behind his head.

Hermione ran her hand through the lake again, watching the delicate ripples spread and then disappear. "It's beautiful…." She breathed, forgetting who she was with.

Malfoy's eyebrow arched. "That would be the difference between it and you."

For some reason, Hermione wasn't all that riled; although her moment of appreciation for Malfoy's vile side was definitely over. "Coming from you, I'd say that was a compliment." She replied, and her voice came out more teasingly than meanly.

Whoa. She shut her mouth quickly, miffed with herself. What the—? Where had _that_ come from?

Before she could reassure herself with a biting comment, Malfoy had gotten up. "This has been so _nice_," he drawled sarcastically, sounding more like himself, which made Hermione feel immensely better. "But I must excuse myself." He bowed mockingly and strolled up the lawn. He was about halfway to the front doors when Harry popped out and started towards her.

Confused, Hermione tilted her head. She wondered briefly whether Malfoy had left because he sensed someone who wouldn't be so happy with them talking somewhat civilly. _That's ridiculous_, she assured herself crossly. _He's just one lucky ferret_.

"Blimey!" Harry exclaimed as he stopped by her. "Those exams were difficult!"

Hermione opened her mouth to reprimand him for not studying more, but then closed it again and giggled a little. "You did fine."

Ron appeared just then. Nobody had noticed him coming outside. "Ruddy Potions!" He cried. "I probably failed."

Neither Hermione nor Harry could argue with that.

Ron sank to the ground as more and more kids spilled out onto the front lawn.

"You're both coming to the Burrow for a while, right?" Ron asked.

"Aye," Harry replied instantly. "I'd say more like all summer."

Ron smiled broadly. "Good man. Hermione?"

Hermione nodded. "I'm on vacation with my parents for two weeks, and then I'll come for sure."

Ron's smile widened, if possible.

They sat back and talked, enjoying their last few days before all hell broke loose.

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**A/N: So if I don't get any reviews after this chappie, I don't think I'm going to continue my story.**

**So...review if you like!**


	4. Kiss Me

**A/N: So. My new hero happens to be **sycoticatalyst. **Thank you for those wwonderfull words of wisdom:) I guess I did get a little...okay, a lot...too greedy. But Lex made it alll better because the review was amazing.**

**All right; so now that I've recognized my current favorite person in the world, let's get on with it, shall we?  
**

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**Chapter 4**

**\\\\  
**

_ Oh, kiss me; beneath the milky twilight  
Lead me; out on the moonlit floor  
Lift your open hand  
Strike up the band and make the fireflies dance  
Silver moon's sparkling  
So kiss me_

-Kiss Me-

.Sixpence None the Richer.

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Hermione lay back on her plastic chair by the pool, feeling uncomfortable behind her Gucci sunglasses, a present from her mother.

It wasn't just the beads of sweat trickling down her body—it was the bikini, white with pink hibiscuses outlined in black, which her mother had bought and made her wear, rather than her normal, one-piece Nike suit.

The pool _did_ look tempting—although taking off her cover-up meant baring all of herself, except a tiny, barely sufficient cloth on her top and bottom. It was identical to parading around in her underwear; and she refused to sink to that level.

The sun was shining in a pale blue sky that looked like it had been painted from watercolors over Maui, Hawaii, where Hermione was staying at the Embassy Suites with her parents; they had decided to bring her on vacation to a totally Muggle place.

"Herms!" Hermione heard her mother call. "Come on sweet, we have to go." Hermione got up; they were planning on going out to dinner.

She took a quick shower back at the room and slid into a somewhat conservative, yet slightly sparkly spaghetti strap black dress, also compliments of her mother. She began to blow dry her hair, and didn't even bother to smooth it when it poofed like normal.

Her mother came out of the bathroom in a bathrobe and groaned. "Hermione!" She scolded. "We've got to do something about this."

Mrs. Granger plugged in what looked suspicious like…a hair straightener! She backed away from the vanity as her mom also put in a hair curler. "No way," she pronounced. "_No_, Mum!"

Somehow, after a battle had ensued, Mrs. Granger came out victorious, which was how Hermione found herself with her face towards the wall and her mother fiddling with her hair.

About 45 minutes, and plenty of yelling from Mr. Granger, later, the older woman had managed to silken out Hermione's thick, unruly hair, and put a few natural-looking curls at the bottom, which almost matched her usual curls but much less messy. "Now that's more like it!" The proud lady exclaimed.

Hermione slowly turned, and stopped dead when her eyes hit the mirror. "That's not…." She breathed, speechless.

Mrs. Granger smiled widely and put an affectionate arm around her daughter. "You're all grown up, baby!"

Hermione stared at her reflection. This wasn't…this couldn't…but…she twirled once, and her usually heavy hair felt light as a feather. A slow smile spread across her rosy lips. "I like it."

Her now sleek hair nicely framed her face, now showing her face and the layers that actually were there. It shimmered in the dim light given off by the table lamp.

After Mr. Granger had properly fussed over his daughter, and how she looked too old, and was she really his, they left for a restaurant called La Bonita, one of the nicest restaurants in the area. It was upscale, dim, prettily decorated, and filled with the undercurrent of people murmuring and china and wine glasses clinking.

Feeling slightly insecure and self-conscious, Hermione kept her head bent down until her mother tapped her to bring it up. "Be proud," The older woman whispered.

Hermione tried to walk confidently, then, though it felt like a lie, so contradictory to her true feelings. Still, it felt nice that maybe she didn't blend in as much as normal, that maybe peoples' gazes didn't skitter over her and land somewhere else more attractive, but maybe stay on her for a second, or a minute, or any time at all.

With those thoughts, Hermione brought her head upwards as they took their seat. She glanced around the room, which was partitioned in some places to give the customers a little more privacy. They had gotten a table in the middle of the floor, and not one of the cozier booths along the perimeter.

She sat down daintily, loving the smooth feel of her hair as it grazed her back when she turned her head.

And then she saw him—he looked Muggle, with short brown hair that was spiked in front and gorgeous blue eyes. He looked about her age, maybe a little older, and he was dressed in black dress pants and a black dress shirt tucked in with a belt. She kept her gaze trained on him, and blushed furiously when he turned, drawn by the power of her stare. Why did she act without thinking like that? Just like what had happened with blowing on Malfoy's ear, she couldn't control her blush or her disbelief that she had actually done something like that—even in this town where she was a stranger, and he probably was one too, and after this she would never see him again….

The rest of his table was hidden by a partition, which was probably why Hermione suddenly got the courage she had no idea she possessed at all.

While the boy was still looking, she winked. She then proceeded to turn beet red, and prayed to the dim lights to conceal it. She quickly looked the other way, her heart pounding.

"So, Hermione," Mrs. Granger began, snapping her daughter out of her dream-like daze. "You plan on picking the classes next year that will help you—"

"_Mother_!" Hermione cried. Didn't she know that they couldn't publicly discuss it?

Mrs. Granger smiled apologetically and a little sheepishly. "Sorry, baby. I just—I'm not used to it. Forgive me?"

Hermione nodded slightly, and looked over to where the boy had been. He caught her gaze, and then got up and didn't break his stare until he had to turn around to keep walking.

_Now or never_, she thought. Her stomach gurgled at what she was about to do. It wasn't like she would see him again if she screwed up or had misinterpreted him, but still, she was Hermione Granger, and she didn't exactly embrace the unknown. She liked to be armed—why wasn't there a book called What To Do About Cute Boys in Restaurants?

After a two-minute internal war, Hermione put down her napkin. She was hazily aware that her parents were talking and she was supposed to join the conversation, but she had already set her priorities and couldn't change them now. "Excuse me." She got up and headed outside the way she had seen the boy go.

"Hey," someone said softly as she stepped out into the garden behind the restaurant—she hadn't known there was one. It took up an acre, with stone paths, inscribed benches, arches, and beautiful flowers.

Hermione turned slowly. It was him. He had been sitting on a bench a little bit up the path. She shyly went over. "Hey."

"I'm Ben. What's your name?"

"Hermione." It took every last bit of her courage to fight through her rampaging butterflies and sit down next to him. _If Harry and Ron could see me now_….she thought, and laughed a little at it. "My parents wanted to be different." She rolled her eyes.

He chuckled. "No, no. That's a pretty name. Hermione."

She blushed. Her name sounded so good when he said it.

That night, Hermione got her very first kiss.

After rendezvousing with Ben, Hermione rejoined her parents, telling them she had gotten a letter and had to find somewhere private to receive it from her owl.

They bought it, and the rest of dinner passed smoothly. Hermione kept touching her purse, which held the napkin Ben had written his number on—turned out he was from Britain, too. She smiled at him as he and his family left, and he smiled back and even waved. She prayed her parents wouldn't notice—and they didn't.

Hermione and her parents were just walking out of the restaurant when Hermione was practically accosted by something moving very fast. The some—one?—skidded sharply to a stop in from of her.

Ron.


	5. Mighty Wings

**Chapter 5**

****

_There's a raging fire in my heart tonight  
Growing higher and higher in my soul  
There's a raging fire in the sky tonight  
I want to ride on the silver dove  
Far into the night  
Till I make you take me  
On your mighty wings  
Make you take me  
On your mighty wings across the sky  
Take me on your mighty wings  
Take me on your mighty wings tonight_

-Mighty Wings-

.Cheap Trick.

x----------x---------x--------x-------x------x-----x------x-------x--------x---------x----------x

Hermione wasn't sure what to think as Ron began talking, disheveled, out of breath. "Hermione! Blimey, am I glad that I found you! I don't know what I would do if—"

"_Ronald_." Hermione cut in smoothly, aware that her parents were watching curiously. "_What_ are you going on about? I'm on vacation, if you hadn't noticed." Her voice was a little colder than she had meant, but after such a wonderful night being a pure Muggle, did he really have to show up?

Ron shook his head, as if to clear it. "We've been attacked! The Order needs—blimey! You look different, Hermione!" His eyes widened.

Hermione tugged on her hair impatiently. "Ron, what's happened?"

It took him a second to answer; he was staring at her, as if trying to figure out how she had gotten so different so quickly. He snapped quickly back to more important issues at her prodding, though. "The Order of the Pheonix needs you, now!" Hermione gestured for him to quiet down because they were drawing attention, and he did. "I've been sent to fetch you."

Hermione glanced from him to her parents, who nodded gravely. She almost rolled her eyes at how dramatically austere they looked, as if it were an important part of a drama movie. Nodding back, she gave them quick hugs and good-byes.

As they walked away, Hermione inquired some more. "So what exactly has happened?" Her voice was perhaps slightly cross.

"We've been attacked. Harry's been hurt, Tonks is MIA, Hedwig is nowhere to be found, and some mysterious source has been sending us inside information on the Death Eaters—either a Death Eater with a death wish, someone close to a Death Eater, or someone trying to screw us up," Ron quickly recounted, sounding as if he were reading off of a script he had memorized.

"Oh, my." Hermione finally replied. Why did things get so interesting right _after_ she had left?

She followed Ron to a side street, currently deserted, around the corner from La Vonita. Her heels slowed her down, but she had no extra shoes. Her swift walking caused her dress to ride up, and she constantly, awkwardly pushed it down.

Two brooms were waiting for them up the alley. They grabbed them as Hermione groaned.

Ron smiled apologetically. "Sorry, Hermione. It had to be flying—easiest to put a cloaking device in. I didn't think I would be able to get to a fireplace, and we can't Apparate into HQ."

Logical enough—frankly, Hermione was impressed that Ron had thought all this up. But still—flying _terrified_ Hermione. It was part of that 'unknown' side of things that got her all squeamish. And now she was in a dress; she would have to ride sideways. _But Hermione_, she tried to calm herself, _you've already overcome _one_ unknown today_. Her body warmed as she thought about the kiss(es), and she unconsciously touched her lips. _Can't you do another_?

Yes. They kicked off, and Hermione wobbled a little and fought to keep her balance.

And then they were out over the Pacific Ocean, heading east, the dark, sparkling waters both dangerous and magical. The moon was three-quarters and oh so bright in the inky black sky. Thousands of stars were visible, tiny pinpricks. It seemed like a fairytale and slightly unreal as they went. Hermione dropped so low that she could run her hand through the cold water. Then she lifted back up to rejoin Ron, after thinking of how cold it would be if she fell in and shuddering a bit.

At the speed they were traveling at, it only took an hour and a half to reach England's southwest shore. From there they slowed down considerably, so that it took 45 minutes to reach London, and then 12 Grimmauld Place.

They landed and walked up the steps of the old house. Ron said the password and the door swung open; Hermione stepped into the house, which reeked of impending doom.

"Hello?" Ron yelled out through the house as the door ominously slammed shut behind them. He ignored the grumpy house-elf, Kreacher, that had opened the door.

His shout echoed for several moments, but there was no reply.

Hermione followed Ron up the stairs to the bedroom he and Harry usually shared. Ron gently pushed open the door and saw their friend asleep.

"What happened to him?" Hermione asked.

Ron sighed. "God hit by eight jinxes at the same time. He's been asleep a day and a half."

Hermione opened her mouth to respond, or at least ask why he hadn't been taken to St. Mungo's yet, but then deafening noise erupted downstairs. Her eyebrow arched questioningly.

Ron shrugged, and they headed downstairs after closing Harry's door.

The kitchen was jam-packed.

"Hello," Remus Lupin greeted them. "We heard you shout, but we were in the midst of an important meeting. My, my, Miss Granger, don't _you_ look dashing tonight."

Hermione blushed and looked down. "Thanks," She mumbled.

Ron returned—when had he left?—with two butterbeers, one of which he handed to Hermione. "Cheers!"

Hermione laughed. "To what?" She asked, toasting to the pure irony of the situation. The Death Eaters were on the rise, Harry was dormant, Tonks and Hedwig were missing, and they celebrating with drinks?

Honestly.

The Order had grown since Hermione had last visited—there were unfamiliar faces among the crowd now. Many she recognized from Hogwarts; mostly sixth and seventh years, although a few fifth years were mixed in. They didn't allow anyone younger than that to join, not with the current issues that were happening, unless they were exceptionally capable, like Hermione had been when she was in fourth year. _Incongruously,_ she thought derisively, _there are no Slytherins abound._

Ernie Macmillan, a Hufflepuff, tapped her on the shoulder. "Hey."

He must have joined recently.

They conversed for a while, after Ernie had sufficiently complimented her new look, and then there was a loud, unceremonious announcement—"Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger, _get your arses in here_!"

After excusing herself, Hermione quickly complied. She followed Ron into the "meeting room," a run-down, long room with worn dark oak-paneled walls, and a beat-up table surrounded by mismatched chairs.

Hermione glanced around; this was the original crowd, including McGonagall, Hagrid, Mad-Eye Moody, Kingsley Shacklebolt, Sirius Black, Arthur Weasley, and Remus Lupin.

"How is it that we can use this place?" Hermione wondered aloud. Hadn't Dumbledore been the Secret-Keeper?

"I've performed another Fidelius Charm," McGonagall said, as if she performed the grueling task every day.

"The room's been sound-proofed, no need ter talk quietly," Hagrid added helpfully.

Hermione nodded. "What's this meeting about, in any case? I must admit, my only interests as of present are finding Tonks and Hedwig."

"As are everyone else's," Arthur Weasley assured her.

"After that, our next priority is to discover our secret source and determine if it is genuine." Sirius added.

"All right." McGonagall stood up. "So how are we to go about finding Tonks and Hedwig?"

The chatter began immediately as everyone mused amongst themselves.

"You lot are impossible!" Hermione exclaimed loudly after ten minutes of unchecked noise. It abruptly stopped at her words. "_Better_. Now. If anyone's go any brilliant ideas, please share."

Lupin immediately stood up. "I've the capabilities to do a Tracking Charm." His voice was calm.

"Good-perfect-done." Hermione automatically answered, wondering if Lupin kept some of Tonks's hair all the time and had it handy to perform the charm. "Someone please explain why I so hastily had to end my vacation and come here?" She gestured towards her dress.

"You clean up nice, 'Ermione," Hagrid called encouragingly. This was followed by wolf-whistles and cheers.

"_Seriously_," She pressed, unappeased by their flattery, and actually quite embarrassed.

"To orchestrate the meeting, of course," Ron told her matter-of-factly. He rolled his eyes for effect.

"Oh, _sorry_, Einstein." Hermione replied, annoyed that this was the best reason they had ruined her totally magical—in the Muggle sense—vacation.

"It's okay."

Hermione sighed disgustedly. "Okay. Hedwig?"

Ron stood up. "Accio Hedwig?" He offered.

Kingsley stood as well. "Won't work. Well actually—does Hedwig have a magical center? No, it should work. But then we won't be able to tell where it is. And she might find it slightly uncomfortable," He added with a small grin.

Hermione shook her head firmly. "Then we're going to have to live without knowing."

"What if it brings Hedwig through Muggle areas?" Sirius asked.

"Ah." Mad-Eye scratched his chin. "Leave that to me."

"Wait!" Lupin stood quickly. "We _have_ to find out where Hedwig has been. She can't tell us, and it's important—that might be exactly the place we're looking for, to end this!"

Hermione sighed. "But…it's _Hedwig_." There was silence. When she spoke again, her voice was more determined. "I'm sorry, Remus, but we're just going to have to figure out things ourselves. And what about Tonks? She could very well be in the same place as Hedwig." Pacified, Lupin sat back down. "All right. So. Lupin, you're trying to bring back Tonks, and Moody, you're working on Hedwig. Would anyone like to tackle our mysterious benefactor?" She looked around.

Kingsley and Sirius stood up.

"Good. Everyone else is on finding out what they can about our enemy—you'll report to Professor McGonagall or I. Are we understood?" Hermione waited for the 'aye's,' and then said while standing up, in a very professional way, "Dismissed."

The core members of the Order filed out. Fred Weasley suddenly appeared on one side of Hermione, and George on the other. "Hey, beautiful," Fred said. "Oy, wait! Is this Hermione? _Our_ Hermione?"

"Dunno, mate," George lifted one of her curls and let it bounce back. "Not quite the same, is she?" He suddenly clutched his heart, and Hermione could almost laugh at how staged it was. "Gasp! It _is_! Woe be me, at the sight of our princess so pretty!" He pressed the back of his hand to his head.

Fred pretended to be crying. "Our little know-it-all! All grown up! Now not only can she make us feel like dolts, but babies too!"

Hermione playfully swatted at them. "You didn't need _me_ to make you feel like babies," She told them, smiling.

"Ouch," George clutched at his heart again. They both grinned then, and bowed, before setting off to find another victim.

Hermione sat down in a chair and took off her shoes and stretched her legs. The meeting had been fairly short, fairly sorted out—yet she still felt tense.

A boy that Hermione didn't recognize suddenly ran in, waving his arms chaotically. "News! News!" He cried. "The Death Eaters have torched eight Muggle villages within the last hour! And they have yet to rest!"

* * *

**A/N: Reviews, reviews! A little something to tell me how I'm doing is all I need. Encouragement is preferred, but...anything will do, really. Any feedback. Don't blame me for being impatient-- let's just call it a little nervousness, shall we?**

**Anyways. The little button's calling your name:)**


	6. Witchy Woman

**A/N: Okay. I'm going to start off by saying that I am so grateful that I got more reviews. You guys rock! And I'm sorry for any mistakes:**

**MHxxPAPER DOLL—yes, Hermione is brave, but I like to think that sometimes on the inside she gets a little jittery, even if she doesn't show it. Sorry about that.**

**Sycoticatalyst—Let's say they were on super-fast totally revolutionary brooms; because, of course, it was for a noble cause. And let's say that I have trouble remembering details because frankly, I have so much stuff on my mind. Yes, Sirius Black is alive, and so is someone else that you'll find out about later. I know that they both died in different times and all, but I have a knack for riding over little details like that and getting right to what I wish it was like. Sorry for any distress that might cause you.**

* * *

**Chapter 6**

\\_  
_

_Woo hoo witchy woman,  
See how high she flies  
Woo hoo witchy woman she got  
The moon in her eye  
She held me spellbound in the night  
Dancing shadows and firelight._

-Witchy Woman-

.Eagles.

x----------x---------x--------x-------x------x-----x------x-------x--------x---------x----------x

Hermione crammed her pinched, pounding feet into her shoes and stood. The crowd was reacting in a variety of ways to this news. She hurried to where Ron and Mr. Weasley were standing. 

"The Ministry must be mayhem. I've got to get there." With a quick good-bye, he left the house so he could Apparate. Hermione realized his department was directly involved, since the Death Eaters were targeting Muggles.

"Let's go!" Hagrid's voice was booming, magically intensified above the hubbub. "Yer assignments are posted on th' bulletin board! Get movin'! We can't let the Aurors get all the good stuff!"

A few laughs rumbled through, which helped lighten the mood somewhat.

All at once, it seemed, the crowd began to sruge towards the bulletin board. Kingsley and McGonagall had most likely made the assignments, and Hermione trusted them both completely.

Hermione saw that she was on the front line with Ron, Kinglsey, Lupin, Sirius, Mad-Eye, the Weasley twins, Neville, Luna, Stan Shunpike, and Ernie.

McGonagall was motioning for Hermione to go over. She did—the professor held up a piece of parchment, fresh with ink.

2370 VIELER PARK

TEATIME; NO MORE THAN 3.

The writing was blocky and weird, but the message was clear.

"What do you make of it?" McGonagall asked as Hagrid halted a few people.

"Our arcane helping hand?" Hermione correctly guessed, and the older woman nodded. "Have they been right before?"

"Well…yes, I suppose so."

Hermione heard the hesitation, but there was no time to press her. "Then let's do it, but with extra precautions."

In the end, they decided Hermione, Ron, and Kingsley would go, while everyone else continued with their normal posts.

Teatime probably meant high tea, which would come soon. They all brushed up on their Invisibility Charms as they waited, and reviewed other spells in case it was an ambush.

"But wait," Hermione mused as Ron and Kingsley polished their brooms in the event of a quick getaway. "If they wanted to hurt us, why would they say only 3?"

"Tricks," Ron answered automatically.

Professor McGonagall's reply made more sense. "Perhaps they know that if they limit us, we will send our best. If they easily outnumber and defeat our elite, we will not be as strong, just as if we eliminate the Dark Lord and his most treasured servants, their empire will crumble."

"Ah." Hermione said—she couldn't help but almost smile with pride at how McGonagall had clearly labeled them the elite.

And then it was time, and there was nothing left for ego boosts. Hermione felt her heart beating almost violently in her chest as they Apparated to 2000 Vieler Park.

The street was seemingly deserted, and the houses were far spread from each other and set back behind dense foliage. Luckily, it wasn't dark. Yet.

2370 was two miles down the road. At every snapped twig or sudden birdcall, Ron would jump and grab Hermione's arm. He usually wasn't so cowardly; she wondered what was going on with him. Maybe it had to do with Harry not being there.

The drive that led up to the house 2370 was gravel, and had a vague 3 etched in the middle of the beginning. _No more than 3_….no one but Hermione caught the play on words, which she hurriedly and softly explained to the other two.

"Now what?" Ron asked, pulling the hood of his cloak off and wiping the sweat off of his forehead. The sun was pounding out the heat, and after that two-mile walk in a heavy black cloak….

Hermione yanked it back up. "_Now_," She said crossly, "We wait."

They waited.

The sun was almost fully down when something happened. They had all been getting impatient, and Ron was muttering about the darkness, when a figure cloaked in a Death Eater outfit appeared in front of them.

Hermione immediately stood and pointed her wand.

"Lower your wand." The figure spoke, still swathed in shadow. Hermione immediately recognized the voice, but couldn't place it. "I'm here to help."

"How do we know?" Hermione demanded.

"I've sent you a note. Since you all are so brilliant—what more could I expect from _you_—you didn't walk past the three to your doom."

"How does that prove anything?" Hermione shrilled, a bit unnerved by the way he had said "_you_" with so much disgust. He obviously knew who she was, but how? And who was he? Her hood was covering her face; he must know her voice, too, then. "It could all be a sham."

"I've helped you before, haven't I?" He retorted, sounding slightly annoyed. "You can either come with me now or wait and die. They're coming." He pushed up his sleeve and showed his glowing Dark Mark.

Hermione pulled in a sharp breath, then glanced at her companions, who both shrugged. "Helpful," She muttered, but then her voice turned stronger. "Fine. We'll come."

The figure nodded, and then turned and began to walk. Ron caught up to Hermione, who was easily followed the man, but at a distance. "Have you gone _mental_?" He demanded quietly.

"Oh, so _now_ you have an opinion." She answered bitterly.

Ron opened his mouth to protest, but then Kingsley caught up to them and muttered in a low voice, "Watch your sides and back. And don't argue—we can't afford that presently."

They both nodded as the man stopped and turned left, crashing through some path in the trees. As a tree branch got stuck in Hermione's hair, she wondered how he had known where to turn. The entrance to this 'trail' looked the same as everything on either side.

And then Hermione glanced down to kick some vines off of her ankle and when she looked back up, the man was gone. Trying not to panic, she glanced at the boys, who both mumbled something inaudible and took sudden interest in their shoes.

Letting out a slightly feral, frustrated sound, she looked around. They were in the densest part of the forest, and it was dark. They had weaved enough that it was impossible to retrace their steps, and—

"Dolts." Hermione glared at Ron and Kingsley, who had, thankfully, enough sense to Lumos on his wand. "I look away for _one second_, and…." She shook her head. Her eyes suddenly widened, and stopped on her survey of their surrounds. She walked forwards to discover a trap door in the ground, disguised to melt into the landscape if unwanted visitors should arrive. Currently, it was glowing red, muted by the darkness, which fell over everything like a wool blanket. The door was still visible, though, through the heavy dark curtain.

Kingsley bent down and touched the trapdoor, swore, and stepped back. "It's bewitched. It's burning hot."

Hermione leaned down next, because Ron refused, and touched the handle. It felt cool to the touch—just like metal outside at night. Puzzled, she pulled it open. A hole and ladder stared up at her.

"Allow me," Kingsley offered graciously, looking baffled himself, and disappeared down.

At the okay, Hermione went, followed by Ron, albeit reluctantly. He closed the trapdoor behind them.


	7. Land of Confusion

**A/N: Thank you to my old reviewers and my new one, Megan Consoer. You guys are amazing:)**

**Anyhow, sorry it took so long to update. I've just moved states and I've been doing a lot of moping and all that fun stuff. Besides that, my computer just got hooked up yesterday so I'm doing my best to update everything and my account on and stuff.**

**It's a snow day, so I have time to update now:)**

**This chapter is short, but I think I'm going to put up two chapters today, maybe one later in the afternoon.**

**Keep enjoying and reviewing!  
**

* * *

**Chapter 7**

\\\\

_There's too many men, too many people  
Making too many problems  
And not much love to go round  
Can't you see this is a land of confusion.  
This is the world we live in  
And these are the hands were given  
Use them and lets start trying  
To make it a place worth fighting for._

-Land of Confusion-

.Genesis.

x----------x---------x--------x-------x------x-----x------x-------x--------x---------x----------x

Hermione stepped off the ladder into…a likeness of the Gryffindor common room at Hogwarts? The resemblance was unmistakable—rich red couches surrounded a blazing fireplace. The walls were done in a warm brown shade, and various squishy chairs sat around. 

The room was empty. And then….

"You like it?" Tonks came sailing out of the next room, her hair a brilliant green today. "I did it myself."

"_Tonks_?" Ron gasped. "But how—why—_what_?"

Tonks laughed. "It's actually a long story—imagine that! Perhaps we should save it for a rainy day. Would you like to meet our mysterious benefactor?"

"Yes," All three replied.

Tonks laughed again. "Hey, mysterious benefactor!" She called in the direction of the door she had come through, which Hermione hadn't noticed before. "Come out!"

The man stepped through the doorway, and Hermione's mouth fell open. She couldn't even gauge anybody else's reaction; she was too shocked.

Tonks made a face. "Perhaps we haven't met? Kingsley, Hermione, Ron, this is Draco Malfoy, and—"

"Oh, we've met," Malfoy assured her spitefully.

Hermione shook her head slowly. She _knew_ she had known that voice!

Tonks must have sensed the hostility. "Cloaks?" She quickly said, holding out her arms.

"I wasn't aware we would be staying," Hermione replied curtly, her eyes never leaving Malfoy.

Tonks laughed, as if she found something amusing. "Oh, you'll be staying. Cloaks?" She asked again.

Reluctantly, Hermione took off her cloak and gave it to Tonks, still eyeing Malfoy suspiciously.

"Hermione!" Tonks cried, sounding delighted. "What's the special occasion?"

A confused, and then embarrassed look passed over her face. She blushed. She hadn't had time to change her dress or hair. Malfoy and Tonks were both staring at her; for once, she actually found the ground quite interesting. "I was, um, on vacation with my parents when, uh, things came up." She straightened her back, ashamed that she had almost been at a loss for words, and lifted her eyes up to Tonks. She kept her eyes trained on her, refusing to look away, to see Malfoy's most likely ridiculing reaction….

"So sorry," Malfoy said dryly. "Next time we'll postpone so you can finish dinner."

"Budge up! No one's asking you to be a prat." Hermione cut, unsurprised that she had been right.

Tonks cut in again, because Ron looked like he was about to punch Malfoy. "How about we get to what we came for?" She suggested.

"Remus said he's going to try a Tracking Charm on you," Hermione offered as they sat, amused at how Tonks blushed whenever his name was mentioned.

"It won't work. We're pretty much completely sealed away here—willingly, of course." She informed her.

Hermione raised an eyebrow, but didn't say anything.

"Anyways, we've got a plan." Tonks announced. "Draco's in with the Dark Lord, and he'll ask him to meet him alone, in a place of our choosing. He may not comply, but if he does, we throw a couple of different curses on him, Track his remaining Horcruxes, and viola!" she lifted her arms for affect.

Hermione frowned. "That seems much too easy."

"Because things just _must_ be so difficult all the time!" Malfoy growled. "It's impossible to look at things simply, is it?"

"Why are you so nasty?" Hermione cried.

"Because I can be."

"Why you—you bloody ferret!" Ron jumped up, fists clenched.

"Aww, look at that," Malfoy drawled. "Hot _cute_. Your little boyfriend's protecting you with his own two hands. It's not like he has much else, anyways," he added as an after-thought.

Ron lunged, but Kingsley held him back.

"Great, now that we're all friends…." Tonks began, mock-cheerfully.

With everyone's help, and many fights later, they had formulated a new, foolproof plan.

It was too bad that it was too late.


	8. If Looks Could Kill

**A/N: Just to stop any confusion in its tracks, I'd like to mention that maybe a couple of weeks have passed between chapter seven and chapter eight. Something important happened, and although I know in my head exactly what happened I am not going to say in this chapter, and maybe not ever (if anything, I'll mention it in a later chapter). It's not too hard to infer, though, because I'd like to think I've given a lot of clues. It's affected Hermione a lot, because she thinks it's her fault--you know how Hermione is;) Anyways, i cordially invite you to use your imagination. :)  
**

* * *

**Chapter 8**

\\\\

_If looks could kill, you'd be lying on the floor  
You'd be begging me please, baby, don't hurt me no more  
If looks could kill, you'd be reeling from the pain  
And you'd never lie again  
If looks could kill._

-If Looks Could Kill-

.Heart.

x----------x---------x--------x-------x------x-----x------x-------x--------x---------x----------x

"…St. Mungo's is overflowing with wizards and Muggles alike…." Ginny stopped reading and put the _Daily Prophet_ down.

Hermione didn't answer—she had her head buried in her arms on the kitchen table at the Burrow.

Fred came hobbling into the kitchen.

"Fred!" Ginny said sharply. "Get back upstairs and rest!"

"Wa…ater…." He wheezed.

Ginny rolled her eyes. Even with a paralyzed, painfully healing leg, he was a drama king. She grabbed him some water and scowled as she handed it to him.

"Can you feel the love tonight?" He warbled as he disappeared.

Ginny laughed a little at her brother's absurdity, and then turned to Hermione. "Baby, you can't blame yourself. The Death Drinkers—or whatever they call themselves now—are all mostly caught."

"Sod off," Hermione mumbled into her arms.

Ginny sighed and sat down at the table, running a hand through her friend's hair. "Honestly—it's not your fault. If anything, it's Ron and Shacklebolt's fault for dragging their feet."

Before Hermione could answer, the fireplace in the kitchen began to crackle and glow green. The air shimmered, and Tonks appeared.

"No time to mope," She said, quickly analyzing the scene before her. "We have work to do."

Hermione wordlessly sprang up and walked to the fireplace, clutching her wand with white knuckles.

"That's my girl." Tonks grinned. "Malfoy Hideaway. Got powder?"

Hermione nodded, and Tonks vanished.

"Are you _insane_?" Ginny nearly exploded. "You're practically traumatized! You can't fight more!"

"Not fight," Hermione responded, her voice flat and emotionless. "Just…work." She pinched some powder from the jar on the mantle, stepped in, and said clearly, "Malfoy Hideaway." To her surprised, the flames glowed blue before they turned green and she was whisked away.

Ginny had no choice but to follow.

**--**

Hermione arrived in the same room she had accessed through the trapdoor.

Tonks stood and grinned at her.

"Why did the flames glow blue?" Hermione asked, almost curiously. Her voice had been dead for days.

"Remember I told you this place was completely sealed to unwanted visitors? We're a restricted fireplace. It's very old magic, and extremely difficult because you have to integrate it into the Floo network. Dumbledore did this one for us. Anyhow, we can decide whether or not to let you in. The fire will glow blue until we accept, in which case it becomes green. If we deny, the flames turn into a normal fire and burn you till you get out."

At that moment, the fire glowed blue. "Ginny Weasley." A strange, somehow eerie voice announced.

"Accepted." Tonks said clearly.

Ginny appeared within seconds. She coughed twice, and looked around. "Where am I? Am I really in a…_Malfoy's_ place?" Her voice was so disgusted when she said Malfoy that Hermione was surprised she didn't choke—although she did have a right to feel that way, almost as much as Hermione herself.

Malfoy chose the absolute wrong time to come striding in with his signature smirk. He stopped when he saw Ginny. "Oy, Weaselette." He said smugly. "How does it feel?" He picked a satin pillow off one of the couches. "I bet this is worth more than your entire house."

Ginny's fists clenched at her sides, and she bared her teeth. Before she could say anything, though, Hermione came to her rescue. "Why don't you pick on someone your own age?"

"Like…you?" He replied. "My pleasure. So, Granger, how is it that—"

"Stop." Tonks said. Her voice wasn't loud, but everyone—including Malfoy, for once—knew it meant business. "Before you two have your usual row, let's get some things straight. As long as we're all working together, we aren't enemies. No enemies—got that? We're all allied against a common enemy. I'm not asking you to be friends, but this means no name-calling." She looked pointedly at Malfoy. "And no being a female dog." She turned her gaze to Hermione. "Is that clear?"

"No," They both answered at once.

"See? You're agreeing with each other already!" Tonks cried gleefully. Her mirthful look then vanished, and her tone hardened. "If you don't agree with _me_, however, you can both march on out." She pointed to the exits.

"But this is my family's—" Malfoy started to protest.

"_March_!" Tonks yelled.

"All right, all right, fine," Hermione put in grudgingly. "I'll stay.

"And?" Tonks prompted.

"And not be enemies with Malfoy," She quickly added, making it sound like one huge word instead of six different ones.

Ginny sat, forgotten, on a couch. She got up then, and sauntered over to where Hermione and Tonks were awaiting Malfoy's decision, both hoping for different answers from him.

"Fine," He finally snapped. "But you can't kick me out if I slip. Old habits die hard."

_Wow, you're actually admitting to something. Shall we record it for you?_ Hermione wanted to say, but she bit her tongue to stop herself, almost drawing blood.

"You better not _slip_ too often," Tonks warned. Her tone grew light again. "On that note, let's get started, shall we?" She rubbed her hands together in anticipation.

They followed Tonks through the doorway, which led to a hallway of sorts, except that the ceilings were bumpy and made out of what appeared to be rock.

_Oh, duh_, Hermione thought. _We're underground._

Tonks stopped about a quarter kilometer down the hallway. It continued for as far as Hermione could see.

The door of the room Tonks wished to get to creaked open, somewhat breaking the painful silence.

There wasn't anything that appeared to be super special; it was just a normal meeting room, but in much nicer shape than the one at Grimmauld Place.

Tonks took the head seat, while Hermione and Malfoy took either side. Ginny sat to the right of Hermione.

"Our work isn't done," Tonks began. The volume of her voice after so much quiet startled Hermione. "A terrible tragedy occurred a very short while ago. We have captured most of these Death Drinkers, the new generation of the Death Eaters. There are still a few left, though. We have to get them, or else history is bound to repeat itself."

"How? With such dwindling numbers?" Hermione inquired.

Tonks shook her head sadly. "I'm afraid the Ministry isn't always truthful in its pronouncements."

"They _lie_?" Hermione gasped, horrified.

"Yes, Granger, they lie. People lie." Malfoy said in a bored voice. "They're not all goody two-shoes like you, Granger. Or as naïve."

"Mr. Malfoy." Tonks admonished, her voice sharp and cold. "If you don't mind."

"Question," Ginny put in. "Who's their new leader? I mean, now that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is…."

"Immobile?" Tonks offered helpfully. "Their new leader calls himself the Prince of Darkness. Besides that, we have virtually no information on him, except that he constantly carries a dragon-hide flask of something."

"Polyjuice Potion?" Hermione suggested, remembering Bart Crouch Jr. acting as Mad-Eye Moody in fourth year.

Tonks shook her head. "They've thought of that—but it doesn't fit, because this Prince only drinks at certain times which may be days apart and follow some secret chart, not one that would be viable to Polyjuice Potion."

For the next thirty minutes, they made conjectures on what potion the Prince could be drinking, but they made counter-points on almost all of them, and the rest were extremely unpractical.

"We have to move on," Tonks finally cut in, as Ginny and Malfoy were engaged in a heated argument about the effects of the Gibbenreider Potion. "We have to plan."

"So?" Hermione glanced at the woman. "What have you got so far?"

"You lot aren't going to like this much," Tonks began hesitantly. "But the only way I see is another full-on fight."

"What?" Malfoy sneered. "Ickle Granger can't do any physical combat?" His voice was mocking. "Will she break?"

"No, but she could die." Ginny replied sharply.

"Enough." Tonks said firmly. "Hermione, have you got any other brilliant ideas?"

Hermione's expression was deeply concentrating, her face thoughtful. Her mind was whirring, rapidly searching through all her knowledge for a better idea. It hit her like a thunderbolt, crackling and zapping so instantaneously that she jumped to her feet. "I've got it!"


	9. Heart of a Champion

**Chapter 9**

\\\\

_I'ma keep the same grin whether I, lose or win  
Up, or down ten, I'ma fight to the end  
breathing hard Let's go  
Ain't no way they can stop me now  
Cause I'm on my way, I can feel my reign coming  
It's the blood of a champion, pumping  
Deep inside my veins too much pride to be running  
I'ma give what I can and more, even if  
My blood, my sweat, and my tears don't mean nothing  
It's the heart of a champion (it's the heart of me)  
(It's the heart of a…) In me._

-Heart of a Champion-

.Nelly.

x----------x---------x--------x-------x------x-----x------x-------x--------x---------x----------x

"Fancy a chocolate?" Malfoy asked, holding out a box.

"I suppose." Hermione sighed heavily.

"Excellent. There's a store about a mile that way." He sniggered and pointed with his thumb, taking the box back.

"We're here, risking our lives, mine more than yours. _Must_ you be such a git?"

"It happens to be my nature." Malfoy smirked proudly.

Hermione shook her head, surveying the surroundings they had Apparated into. "I still don't believe that Tonks put us together. _Us_! We hate each other! How are we supposed to work together?" She threw her hands up in frustration and defeat.

"I'm going to have to agree with you on that one," Malfoy said.

The area in which they stood was almost completely barren. There were roads and a few run-down buildings of wood and stone, but besides that the place was empty, and one hundred percent abandoned. It looked like a ghost town that hadn't been completely built yet—almost as if the builders had been run out. Weird, and yet not so much.

They were in Stratton Levameier Peak, an area apparently known for its emptiness, but only among certain people; according to Tonks, the place was fairly unknown in terms of widespread knowledge. It was the perfect place to institute a secret meeting. It was a terrible place to be, though, for it was also notorious for its spookiness, and yet in a low-key, surreptitious way.

"So, why are we here again?" Hermione asked a little nervously, more because it was less creepy when they talked.

"To do something extremely foolish and dangerous," Malfoy muttered under his breath.

"Just tell me again, please." She almost pleaded, but caught herself: she would _never_ plead to him. She squared her shoulders and looked at him.

"_Fine_. Stupid mudblood. Oh—oops! I am _so_ glad Tonks isn't here." He pretended to be scared. "The Dark Lord—well, the Prince of Darkness—will be here any moment, and we're to be bloody mental and spy."

"No," Hermione interrupted. "We're to _pretend_ to spy."

"If you know it so well why'd you ask me?" He asked, irritated.

"It is…less creepy," she finally admitted, and sighed, waiting for his retaliation.

Malfoy's face relaxed, and the expected came. "Oh? Is our little mudblood _afwaid_?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "I walked right into that one."

He looked surprised, momentarily rendered speechless. But then it came back—"Yeah, you did."

Hermione closed her eyes as the wind swept across her face, briefly lifting the hair off the nape of her neck. It washed over her and calmed and cooled her. "It's time." She announced.

They donned their masks, and put up the hoods of their cloaks. There were several pops, and others dressed identical to them appeared.

Hermione set her face. How would she recognize Tonks and the others? Ah, yes. The tiny silver button at the front of their cloaks—invisible until a certain spell was uttered, an intricate spell that Tonks had taught them, that allowed them to be visible only to the spell-caster.

The air seemed to crack and fizzle, as if it were tangible, and then a figure appeared in the middle of the loose ring the Death Drinkers had formed. Hermione held her breath, waiting….

The Prince, as Hermione supposed this was, was fully masked but dressed in rich emerald, black, and purple robes that looked fit for a king. His mask was silver and fancier than everyone else's. Thick silver chains hung around his neck.

The Prince surveyed the group—his eyes paused on Hermione, and she felt her heart stop, and her face heat up behind her mask. But then they traveled on, and she let out a small breath she didn't know she had been holding.

The Prince turned so his back was facing Hermione. He began to speak in a low, cold voice that send shivers up and down her spine—but this voice seemed younger than Voldemort's, somehow, less aged, less…experienced? "Usually, I do not question who stands before me, willing to obey and serve. However, today I detect two pure hearts that do not belong among our ranks." He turned in a circle again, and his eyes halted on Hermione again. Her body turned to ice—this was it. This wasn't a game anymore! If he wanted to kill her, she would be killed. Nobody could save her. He kept going, and stopped to stare at another. Hermione hoped with all her pure heart that it wasn't Malfoy. Wait—why was she praying for him? _Because he's on my team. Obviously_. She told herself, disgusted. "You and you, step forward." He pointed at Hermione and the other wizard.

The hand signal. Hermione saw it as she stepped forward—it was Malfoy. She signaled back. _Fight_.

He nodded slightly.

And then it began.

"Avada Kedavra!" The Prince yelled, but Hermione dodged the curse as the other Death Drinkers gravitated towards the two.

Hermione began yelling curses, her voice high-pitched and tinged hysterical. But then her cool composure returned: _don't let anything faze you, Hermione—because then you're done for_—and she started alternating, well-timed curses and blocks, occasionally stopping her continuous chants to assist Malfoy.

And then, amidst the flashes of light and angry cries, Hermione heard one that filled her ears and her brain and blocked everything else out—

Malfoy was down.

It was just her. Only her. Up to her.

She prayed silently as time seemed to stop; but then the fire returned to her eyes, and her jaw tightened. "This is for you, Malfoy." She muttered under her breath. She began pointing her wand fiercely, ignoring the pain as something slashed her arm and something else her leg. Luckily for her, most of the men weren't sure, in the chaos, who was she, which she used greatly to her advantage.

Something bit her leg; she bit down on her tongue to keep from screaming, drawing blood, and she didn't stop her rapidfire spells, pointing wildly as she glanced downwards.

A snake stared up at her.

Ignoring it, she looked up and kept shouting curses—but then her vision began to blur around the edges, and her head felt fuzzy as she felt the poison slowly spread up her leg.

One girl—no matter how genius, or how well disguised—was no match for more than two dozen adult Dark Wizards. She had put down more than half, but a little less than a dozen and a half or so still remained.

The last things Hermione heard were several pops—reinforcements?—and then she collapsed and the world went black.


	10. Born to be Wild

**A/N: I wanted to wait and see if a few more reviews came in, but I got impatient and i just HAD to put this up:) This might be one of my favorite chapters (out of what I've written so far) just because Hermione is one of my favorite characters and this may just help you understand why :)**

**Cherylyn--Harry is currently dormant. He got seriously injured, hexed from all sides, and he hasn't woken up yet, or not of Hermione's knowledge. She hasn't been back to headquarters in a while, in any case, because she was at the Burrow and then the Malfoy Hideaway and then fighting the Prince. You'll hear from him in the next couple of chapters.**

**You can click on my name and see my other stories:) I have a few more.**

**And whats a what-happens-in-the-final-battle story? With a title like that I'm guessing it's self-explanatory, but I don't feel like figuring out what it means right now. So please elaborate:)**

**Thanks to my other reviewers, and I hope you enjoy!**

* * *

**Chapter 10**

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_I like smoke and lightning  
Heavy metal thunder  
Racin' with the wind  
And the feelin' that I'm under  
Yeah Darlin' go make it happen  
Take the world in a love embrace  
Fire all of your guns at once  
And explode into space  
Like a true nature's child  
We were born, born to be wild  
We can climb so high  
I never wanna die_

-Born to be Wild-

.Steppenwolf.

x----------x---------x--------x-------x------x-----x------x-------x--------x---------x----------x

"D'you think she'll be all right?" A voice whispered loudly.

"Dunno. She's been out for two weeks. The Healers have helped as much as they can."

"Was some bloody strong venom. Took her out in less than two minutes."

"Poor 'Ermione. Such a good lass—"

"And so brave! Have you ever heard of any other teenage girl holding off so many, in essence, Death Eaters for so long alone?"

The words floated above Hermione's head, just beyond her understanding. It was a jumble of sounds of meanings and she had neither the strength nor motivation to try and figure them out. The noise was pounding against her throbbing skull—she wanted nothing more than to take all the hubbub from above her, crumple it up, and throw it in the wastebasket.

A harsh, unchecked pain burst at where she had been bitten, and her leg began to shake uncontrollably.

"It's happening again!" A girl's voice said, sounding scared. "Call the Healers!"

Hermione tried to open her eyes or at least protest because the pain was subsiding, but her battle was futile. Her entire body was sore, and it hurt to even _think_ about moving.

--

Hermione woke a while later, startled, beads of sweat breaking out on her forehead. "Who's there?" She managed to choke out, her mouth feeling like it was full of cotton. Her throat hurt terribly, and she still felt sore, but she painstakingly sat up as her eyes adjusted to the darkness.

"'Tis I—who else?"

Hermione shivered involuntarily. "Who are you?" She called, in a tone braver than what she felt.

"They call me the Prince of Darkness. No need to introduce yourself, I believe we've met." Hermione could almost see the Prince's evil smile. "Now, you may know me as…." The man stepped forward.

Hermione gasped. "_Bellatrix Lestrange_?" She demanded, her voice breaking into a fit of coughs halfway through.

The woman smirked. "Smart, are we? Even when we're injured? How utterly…_cute_." Her voice suggested anything but; it was normal now, a woman's voice.

"Yes…well. A man, are we? How utterly cute." Hermione returned; her injuries hadn't affected her wit. She shifted weight and, annoyed, realized she had no wand—nothing but a glass of water on the table beside her and the hospital robe she had on.

"Witty, too," Bellatrix noted dryly. "How…amusing."

"Um…all right. Are you going to kill me soon, or must you insist on boring me first?"

"Miss _Granger_!" Bellatrix cried. "I intend on taking my time and having my fun. Actually, because I am so generous" —here Hermione snorted— "I'll allow you to choose. Would you like a fate similar to Frank and Alice Longbottoms, or would you prefer to die like my dear cousin, Sirius Black?"

"Neither, thank you." Hermione replied primly.

"No? That wasn't an option, I'm afraid." Bellatrix's voice already held a hint of anger.

"I made it an option," Hermione told her, holding her head up high.

"Why you…!" Bellatrix exclaimed. "I'm in charge here, not you! Just in case you forgot…Crucio!"

Hermione put a smirk on and refused to let go of it as the intense pain ravaged her body. It hit her snakebite, and she wondered if enough physical pain could kill a person. Her whole body burned, and she fought the strong, almost unbearable impulses to scream and writhe and beg for her to stop.

Bellatrix ended the curse. "My, _my_, you're a stubborn girl. You would have made a splendid Death Eater, you know. Too bad. Nevertheless, I'm going to have my fun with you." Her sick, deranged smile was nauseating.

"Why do you call yourself a prince?" Hermione asked, stalling as she formulated a plan. It was taking longer than usual; her brain was still fuzzy from the pain and medication and poison and fatigue and…everything. "I haven't the foggiest idea."

"You dim girl!" Bellatrix whirled on her. Then her tone softened, though not by much. "Do you think anyone would take the Dark Lord's second in command seriously if they were a _girl_? They would scorn me because they would think me not worthy. I, however, know otherwise—my Lord likes this new management. He likes me best, you know."

For one moment, Hermione almost felt sorry for the pathetically delusional woman—perhaps she shouldn't mention that Voldemort was dead, and never coming back.

"That's very smart," Hermione commented, not entirely truthfully. "Why do you wear that flask?"

Bellatrix's lips pulled back in a disgusting smile as she put the flask to her lips. She drank, then spoke. "Because of this."

Hermione gasped—it was the voice—the _male_ voice that had come out of the Prince's mouth at the meeting.

"Wow, you've really thought of everything." Hermione was _almost_ admiring…but she hadn't quite sunk that low.

Bellatrix turned and began to pace.

_Perfect_. Hermione picked up her glass of water, as if to drink it. She drank some, and then as Bellatrix came as close as she could and looked the other way, she threw the water glass at the side of her face. She sucked in her breath; this was risky, and if it didn't work would serve to be the end of Hermione, but it was the only thing she had.

"Ahh!" Bellatrix yelled in her man-voice as the broken glass cut her skin in multiple places, and the water practically blinded her.

Hermione lurched out of bed, ignoring the woozy feeling bubbling in the pit of her stomach, and tried to grab the woman's wand—she held fast, though, even as she was trying to claw the water out of her eyes.

Hermione pointed her fist on Bellatrix's hand; she cried out and dropped her wnad, which Hermione scurried to pick up. As she bent, though, Bellatrix kicked her, sending her rolling across the floor, squeezing her eyes shut in pain as the snakebite hit the floor…with the wand.

"Petrificus Totalus!" Hermione shouted, pointing the wand at Bellatrix from her position on the floor. She had long since mastered the impromptu use of another person's wand: it got easier with practice, and the more basic the spell, the better. This was about as basic as it got.

Bellatrix froze, and fell over. Hermione triumphantly got up and stepped over her to reach the door—but the woman grabbed her ankle as an eye popped open. "Silly girl," She hissed. "You don't think my wand is protected against this sort of thing?"

Hermione growled and held up the wand. "One more word and I break this."

Bellatrix began to laugh.

Hermione spotted her wand—it was on a tray with three other wands on the far end of the room. She let out a slow breath, and then violently kicked Bellatrix's already cut face with her unheld foot, and when her other foot was released, made a mad dash for her wand, still holding Bellatrix's, occasionally faulting because of her bad leg. She grabbed her wand just as she felt Bellatrix lunge for her.

They both hit the wall, tumbling over until they came to rest next to an empty bed.

Hermione scrambled up, breathing hard and almost shrieking with pain, and said the first spell that came to her mind—"Levicorpus."

Bellatrix was flipped upside down and hung in mid-air by her ankle. She opened her mouth to say the counter-jinx, having grabbed her wand, but Hermione quickly pointed her wand and said, "Petrificus Totalus!" Bellatrix's mouth froze, halfway open, as did the rest of her body.

Hermione sat down on the empty bed, breathing hard, the pain in her leg excruciating. She felt woozy, like she was going to pass out any second: but she had to keep herself calm, under control. She winced as she gingerly set her foot down on the floor.

And then there were voices, outside the door to the ward, and the door opened and lantern light flooded in.

They weren't at St. Mungo's. They were at the Hogwarts Hospital Wing.

As this realization and confusion sunk in, Hermione looked up and saw Madam Pomfrey and Professor McGonagall staring at her and Bellatrix.

"M…." She coughed. She was exhausted. "Madam and…P…P…Professor."

"Miss Granger!" Madam Pomfrey scolded. "Get into bed, _now_!" Her voice was low. Why?

Hermione half-hobbled, half-dragged herself over to her bed, but then McGonagall pointed her wand and levitated her the rest of the way.

"Why am…I…here?" Hermione gasped, clutching her leg.

"Drink this," Madam Pomfrey offered kindly. She handed a glass of gurgling liquid to Hermione; it was deep blue, but produced neon green bubbles.

Hermione spit out her first sip, disgusted. It tasted how she imagined sweat, dirty socks, and a hint of mold would taste.

"Well what did you expect, pumpkin juice?" Madam Pomfrey asked sardonically. "Come on now, drink up." _a/n: yes, I stole this from one of the movies. Can't remember which one. Sorry—I just liked it too much!_

Hermione reluctantly poured the vile potion in her mouth and swallowed—after she had gotten past the horrid taste, the effects on her pain were instant.

Professor McGonagall began to speak. "You were at St. Mungo's, but we opted to move you here, to keep you safer after your heroic battle. However, I see that our judgment was faulty."

Hermione fairly glowed at the praise. "Heroic battle?" Yes!

A thought struck her. "Professor, Bellatrix—who is the Prince of Darkness, by the way—said yesterday there were _two_ pure hearts, and brought out Malfoy and I. Does that mean—"

"Yes." McGonagall nodded once. "It does, in fact. I can't be positive, but…." The older woman glanced at Bellatrix and flicked her wand. The still bound body floated out the door. "The Ministry has some people waiting to deliver her to Azkaban," she explained. "In any case, I don't believe that Bellatrix is our Prince. She's motivated enough but not by a stretch advanced enough to do that kind of magic—to tell a pure heart from the rest—without being completely drained afterwards. Actually, she probably just couldn't it. She is a cover-up, most likely. Either that, or immensely foolish."

Madam Pomfrey gave Hermione a potion for her throat, and the girl explained about Bellatrix showing up, and her flask, and everything else.

McGonagall shook her head. "Voldemort never did anything himself. Why should the Prince himself come to kill you? Bellatrix cannot be the Prince."

Hermione nodded.

"If there are no more pressing issues to discuss," Madam Pomfrey cut in sharply, implying that there better not be any more pressing issues to discuss, "Miss Granger needs her rest."

McGonagall nodded, and left the hospital wind as Hermione's world, once again, drifted into darkness.


	11. The Thin Line Between Love and Hate

**Chapter 11**

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_Theres a thin line between love and hate  
Wider divide that you can see between good and bad  
Theres a grey place between black and white  
But everyone does have the right to choose the path that he takes  
I will hope, my soul will fly, so I will live forever  
Heart will die, my soul will fly, and I will live forever_

-The Thin Line Between Love and Hate-

.Iron Maiden.

x----------x---------x--------x-------x------x-----x------x-------x--------x---------x----------x

Sunlight streamed in shafts through the windows, and Hermione turned in her sleep.

More voices hovered faintly above her, but she neither could nor wanted to try and hear or understand them.

But then her ears detected a voice in the crowd—a voice that was so familiar to her—it was a voice she hadn't heard in a while, but still one she knew plain as day.

She slowly cracked open an eyelid, and it felt crusty. She with much effort dragged it all the way open. And then the other—she felt drunk (not that she would know) because her eyes were so heavy.

"She's awake!" Someone whispered excitedly. Hermione's head pounded.

"_Shh_," Another voice said sternly. Hermione thanked Merlin that the heavy sounds were over.

There was near-silence, and Hermione reveled in it, as the colorful blurs clouding Hermione's vision slowly took shape. Sharp edges appeared, and groggily Hermione began to recognize each person. By default, her mind brought up a quick scrutiny of each person, a small, sparse list she had compiled through the years for each person she had ever met that helped her distinguish everyone.

"Harry," She gasped out. "You're…awake."

Harry flashed her a brilliant smile. "You should be talking."

Making a mental note to ask exactly how his awakening had come about later, and tactfully ignoring his comment, she suddenly started. "Malfoy! Is he—" She stumbled and rushed over her words; her mind was back to normal, but her mouth wasn't and therefore couldn't keep up. She felt like a clumsy child.

Someone—Tonks—laid a gentle hand on Hermione's shoulder, urging her to lay back. "He's fine. Still unconscious, though—he's in a much worse condition than you." Her voice turned bitter. "Although now I'm not so sure, after your little run-in with my dear Aunt Bella."

Hermione laughed—or attempted. It was a scratchy, choked sound that racked her entire body. She still wondered: how had she made it out better than Malfoy? What could have happened to him?

"Take it easy," Ron warned. "Going on like this won't help you get stronger."

Hermione offered a weak smile. "Then it'll do me good if you lot stop being funny."

"Stop being ourselves?" Ron asked dramatically, clutching at his heart. Ginny looked at him sharply.

Hermione laughed again. "Ronald Weasley! Stop that! This instant!" Her head felt like it was being bounced on sharp rocks.

"Yes, Mum," Ron replied.

So now Hermione was getting slightly irritated. Her friend was nice, and all—but couldn't he see that every time she felt the urge to laugh, it killed her?

"That's enough!" Madam Pomfrey arrived to shoo them away. "Either you follow the rules, or you leave! Miss Granger needs her rest, for Merlin's sake! All you jokesters, _out_!"

Hermione smiled gratefully at Madam Pomfrey.

Harry stayed as everyone else left. Madam Pomfrey stared at him for a second, but then turned and went off to pursue some other business.

"What happened to you?" She whispered, taking his hand. It was so warm, so _alive_….

"I should be asking _you_ that," He said with a small laugh. "You are, after all, the one that's been out for three weeks, give or take a few waking moments."

"Three _weeks_?" Hermione exclaimed, sitting bolt upright but instantly regretting it as the floor seemed to rush up at her. She laid back down. "That's—that's—has anyone told my parents…?" She looked around frantically.

Harry tried to follow her gaze, but then gave up and chuckled. "Yes. Mr. Weasley called them on a fellytone."

"Telephone." She corrected automatically. She could have kicked herself—she had just recovered, only slightly, and she was _already_ being a know-it-all?

"What?" Harry looked at her strangely. "Anyways, they visited you at St. Mungo's, but you were still unconscious. Your Dad's a right wonky bloke. He—"

Hermione buried her face in her hands, thoroughly embarrassed. "I know. He fancies the strangest—" Her voice was muffled by her arms; then her head shot up. "What's happened to the Death Eaters—Drinkers—whatever they are? And the Prince? Have they found him yet?"

Harry smiled, amused by the way she was sprinting over her words. "Breathe." He ordered. She obeyed, albeit with a nicely acid glare. "It's not fully finished—but I reckon it'll end soon; or at least die down. Mostly all the Prince's followers have scattered, and there hasn't been any activity in the past week. I only wish we could go back to Hogwarts without worry about all this."

Hermione nodded in agreement. "I definitely miss Hogwarts."

Harry sat back and smiled. "We _are_ in Hogwarts, aren't we?" He looked around the Hospital Wing. "It doesn't feel like it."

Hermione shook her head. "No. No, it doesn't."

--

The air seemed to be bursting around Hermione when she woke up. At first, her thoughts seemed strangely buzzed; but then she attributed it to the air as she settled back against her pillows.

She heard a groan then, and, confused, turned her head towards the sound. To her surprise, a yellow head was attempting, it appeared, to life itself off a bed.

"Malfoy?" She asked cautiously.

There was only another groan in reply.

"Are you okay?" She tried again.

There was a strange, garbled sound, and Hermione tilted her head to the side, confused. Did he have a cotton mouth, like she had had before? She immediately regretted her question—of course he wasn't okay. And of course he couldn't respond.

"Do you…want…water, or something?" Hermione asked, her voice still tentative. She hadn't yet received a signal—whether it was acceptable or not for her to be talking to him.

"No," Came the short reply. The voice was raggedy and worn and burnt out from disuse and laced with pain, but most definitely Malfoy's. "I'm quite perfectly fine." His voice was almost obstinate, like a little kid's, but still firm and cold.

There was silence—she couldn't decide whether or not to say something, and even then, she didn't know what to say. Malfoy obviously wasn't going to get off his high horse and talk first, so it was up to her if she wanted to start anything.

"Is it over?"

Hermione almost jumped, she was so startled. She hadn't at all expected him to speak; and without that biting tone of his? Perhaps it had taken a vacation—she giggled slightly at her thoughts, but then her face turned serious. "Um…not quite. But Harry thinks—"

"_Potter_?" He asked scornfully, his voice still raspy. He lifted his head, and Hermione was startled to see numerous cuts across his eyebrows and cheeks, slashing through his perfect, ghostly complexion. "Come to ruin any unsuspecting magical peoples' conversation," He grumbled. "Always dirtying up everything with that repulsive name of his." His voice got stronger. "Of course, our Golden Boy knows. Shall I tell the Prince to try the killing curse on him? Maybe then we'll be safe another eleven years."

"Why do you always have to be like that?" Hermione fairly cried, exasperated. She suddenly felt overwhelmingly protective of Harry—it was slightly unnerving.

"I'm uncomfortable and in pain, Granger! So sorry I'm not just peachy."

"I'm going through the same thing as you are, Draco Malfoy!" Hermione said sharply. "I've fought just as much as you, and I'm in pain just as well!" She crossed her arms angrily. "I'd appreciate it if you took it like a man, and not a child." She added as an afterthought, seeing Malfoy's face, which seemed to have frozen. She sighed heavily at that, and her face softened.

Malfoy snapped out of his daze. "I suggest we end this here." He offered, not exactly meanly, just…off-handedly.

"Fine." Hermione crossed her arms again and looked away. A sharp pain burst through the wound on her leg, and she gave a half-yelp, biting down hard on her tongue to try and keep from making noise.

"Whatsa matter, Granger?" Malfoy taunted snidely. "Too much pain for you to handle?"

"I honestly don't think you should be talking," Hermione replied sweetly. "And if you'd really like me to, I can show you what it feels like."

Malfoy snorted. "I think I'll pass."

Hermione ignored his sarcasm. "I thought as much," She told him primly, and proceeded to ignore him until her world drifted back into darkness. Her last conscious thought went something like this: _this is going to be a very, very long stay_.

--

When she awoke, the thoughts on Hermione's mind were about seventh year and her thoughts were sloshing around excitedly; words like _war over_ and _Head Girl_ jumped out in neon marquees at her.

A slight smile adorned her delicate features as she slowly got up and tested her foot on the cold floor. Her bitten leg was still slightly sore, but everything else was mostly healed.

Hermione wandered through the Hospital Wing, stopping by Malfoy's bed. She noted how peaceful and attractive he looked when he was sleeping; all the worry lines, all the hard, mean lines, all the smirks and evil lines gone.

Suddenly, she had a flash of thought, so sudden and unanticipated that she almost stumbled backwards.

She pictured herself in Malfoy's arms.

Making a face for her own benefit, she banished the thought, telling herself, _hold my hair back while I barf_, and kept walking.

She felt the stirring behind her more than she heard it; when he spoke, she turned but avoided his gaze.

Malfoy's voice was deep and rumbling, and sent shivers down Hermione's spine. "What time's it?"

Hermione shrugged, but then felt stupid. He hadn't lifted his head yet. "I've just woken up myself."

There was silence, and Hermione unhurriedly sauntered over to her own bed. The doors opened; and she froze—but then she recognized the flame-red hair and relaxed.

"Hey," She greeted softly.

"Hey. How are you feeling?" He asked, sliding a chair up next to her bed, which she had taken the liberty of sliding into.

"Much better," She responded cheerily. "When's my release day?"

"Today, actually," Ron informed her, seeming surprised by her peppiness. "I've come to fetch you—and _Malfoy_." His face darkened considerably.

"Ronald!" Hermione scolded. "What've you got against him now, anyways? He was braver than you in his fight _with our side_! I'd appreciate if you don't regard him that harshly." She ignored the hypocrisy in her words, but between her and Malfoy, it was different—it wasn't just light and dark sides. It had to do with insults, and ingrained hate, and….

"Hermione!" Ron whined. "He's a sodding—"

She shook her head firmly. "I don't want to hear it."

Off to the side, the corner of Malfoy's mouth turned up slightly against his pillow.


	12. Heart of Glass

**A/N: Thanks for the catch, crazychick-1027. Sorry about that. Pretend it's...um...Ron. Thankss:)**

* * *

**Chapter 12**

\\\\

In between  
What I find is pleasing and I'm feeling fine.  
Love is so confusing there's no peace of mind.  
If I fear I'm losing you it's just no good.  
You teasing like you do.

-Heart of Glass-

.Blondie.

x----------x---------x--------x-------x------x-----x------x-------x--------x---------x----------x

The Order was abuzz upon their return.

"Hermione!" She heard someone call, and she turned to see Harry running towards her. "How are you feeling?"

"Much better, thanks," she answered brightly. "How are things here?"

"Splendid," His smile was broad. "They fear us. In our most recent battle, we'd only just appeared when they decided to take a runner."

"They disbanded!" She gasped, as if she couldn't believe it. But then she gushed: "That's wonderful!"

Malfoy chose the perfect time to cut in. "I'd _hate_ to break up this love fest," He decreed, however insincerely. "But I'm bored."

Hermione mouth fell open. "You—you—you insolent pig! What makes you think we care?" All past civility with the ferret was gone out the window.

"Your expression of envy," He smirked. "Honestly, Granger! Must you be so thick?"

"Excuse me, but I've not the foggiest idea what you're going on about," She grumbled.

"Shall I refresh your memory? You—"  
"Shush!" She ordered, then paused. Wait, what? What did he have against her? To hold against her? She shouldn't be afraid. He had nothing to say. At least not that she could—

"Have you got a bloody problem?" Harry's irritated voice broke through her thoughts.

"Mighty cheeky today, aren't you?" Malfoy asked, sounding amused.

"Shush!" Hermione said again, as Harry started to tell Malfoy exactly where to go. "You both are going to be the end of me."

Malfoy's smirk returned. "Glad to hear it," He said, before strolling away, the picture of cool.

Hermione turned back to Harry, unfazed. She slightly amusedly noticed his furious expression.

--

The day was long and exhausting.

After being away for so long (three weeks and six days), Hermione had much to catch up on. People were constantly yanking her this way and that. It was nice to be wanted, but honestly!

By nightfall, Hermione was ready for a well-deserved break. She donned a light jacket and carefully ventured out of Grimmauld Place. The nearest park was only two blocks away.

Hermione sat on a swing at the deserted playground and thought, her thoughts reeling back and forth as she gently rocked.

She was so lost that she didn't hear the footsteps, didn't feel the presence until the quiet creaking of the swing next to her brought her crashing back to reality.

Draco Malfoy's silhouette looked almost angelic against the eerie, moonlit darkness. Half of his pale face almost glowed with an unearthly light, while the other half was plunged into darkness, like the dark side of moon.

In that one moment, Hermione Granger was really, truly afraid of Draco Malfoy. He radiated greatness, power; she forced herself to not cower away.

"Malfoy?" She whispered, still awed by the fear and daunting that was flooding through her, by the strong urge to appreciate his authority. It was hard feeling to explain, and absorb, and she struggled violently with it for a few seconds until she fell to simply taking in the beautiful sight.

He turned his head ever so slightly, and his majestic airs did not dampen as he nodded. "Granger."

She was amazed and infuriated and excited and confused by him, all at the same time. He acted as if he had gotten there first, and she had joined him, but his body language….

What _about_ his body language?

She wanted to keep staring at him and paint this scene, of a half-moonlit Draco Malfoy, and keep it to decipher on a rainy day.

_Shut up, Hermione_!" She screamed inside her head. She was embarrassed that he was causing such a stir inside her, angry that her inner turmoil was ruining the peaceful setting, grateful that nobody could see her thoughts, confused about _why_ the turmoil was even happening.

For the first time, maybe, in her entire life, Hermione Granger stopped thinking and just let it be.

--

Hermione's thoughts were on everything she had to accomplish that day when she awoke. But then her full consciousness kicked in, and the hazy, dream-like memories drifted back.

_"I'm going to say something that you must swear you will _never_ tell another soul about." _

_"Okay." _

_"I…I thought you were braver than me. When we fought…and then with Bellatrix…." _

_Her smile was radiant. "You're not half bad, Malfoy. At least you _somewhat_ respect your betters." She added teasingly. _

_He smirked. "As long as we're being honest, call me Draco." _

_She looked up, shocked. "Why?" _

_"Just because." _

Hermione made her bed as she thought. What was _up_ with him—Malfoy? He was acting like he wanted them to be friends. So obviously he had some diabolical plan. But…what?

Pushing the thoughts aside, Hermione headed into the kitchen, which was deserted thus far.

"I haven't the foggiest idea what we're doing up so early," A familiar voice came from behind her.

Hermione laughed and turned. "You're a nutter, Harry. What shall we make for breakfast?"

"Make?" Harry wrinkled his nose.

"Yes." She replied. "We might as well."

A half hour later, the kitchen smelled of blueberry waffles, which both knew how to make. They enjoyed explaining Muggle food to everyone as they appeared, drawn by the delicious smell wafting out of the kitchen.

"Faffles?" Ron asked, groggy and disoriented. "My dad went on rampant about these once," He shook his head. "Horrible memories. Of course, two days later he found out about bash browns…."

Hermione laughed. "Try one of these—they'll wipe all the terrible memories away. I _promise_."

Ron reluctantly took a bite—and then his face lit up. "Blimey! Dad _isn't_ always mental!"

"I reckon he liked them," Harry told Hermione meaningfully.

Hermione just rolled her eyes and moved on to the next 'customer.' "Malfoy." She cleared her throat awkwardly, unsure of how to act. "Waffle?"

He nodded. "My name?" He prompted.

She blushed, and her throat tightened, and her vision blurred but for him. Why did he have to be so goddamn _hot_? "D-Draco," She whispered, praying no one else would hear.

He nodded shortly. "Hermione." And then he was gone, leaving her dazed and very confused.


	13. Black Velvet

**A/N: Thanks to all my awesome new reviewers! **

**Ayame367**

**Yuki Asao**

**Rae16**

**xKate the Greatx**

and

**MHxxPaper Doll**,  
who's been a faithful reviewer.

**You guys are way too generous and I love it, and thanks so much, and keep reviewing and more importantly, enjoying! **

* * *

**Chapter 13**

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_Every word of every song  
That he sang was for you  
In a flash he was gone,  
It happened so soon,  
What could you do?_

-Black Velvet-

.Alannah Myles.

x----------x---------x--------x-------x------x-----x------x-------x--------x---------x----------x

"Fancy a candy?" Ron asked, holding out a box.

Hermione shook her head.

"Have one!" Ron insisted.

"Yeah, Herms, please?" Harry said.

"Sod off, both of you!" She told them hotly.

They withdrew. "_Someone's_ in a foul mood," Harry grumbled.

Hermione exhaled slowly, feeling guilty. "Sorry, I'm just thinking."

"What about?"

"None of your business."

"Oh." Ron sat back sulkily.

"You big baby!" Hermione cried, exasperated. _Malfoy would have to wait_.

--

The days and weeks seemed to fly by as the summer progressed and drew to a close. She hadn't been allowed on the front line anymore, so she pretty much researched and strategized while she watched everyone else go. They weren't making much headway on figuring out who the Prince really was, but they knew for a fact it wasn't Bellatrix, and most of the Death Drinkers were easily scattered; they were nowhere near as well-kept as the Death Eaters used to be, although it was no doubt that most of the members were one and the same.

Still, it was fun. Hermione visited the Burrow for a couple of days, and went to stay with her parents for a week to make up for the lost vacation time, which they insisted she shouldn't feel bad about, but did anyways.

And then the Hogwarts letters came. She couldn't decide whether she should cry or shout; she was Head Girl, of course. She flaunted her badge to the twins' catcalls. But it was her last year at Hogwarts….

The whistle of the Hogwarts Express struck her as both joyful and sorrowful. She was still hovering between both emotions.

Harry and Ron weren't immune to the 'Seventh Year Sickness' as the twins had so cleverly dubbed it. They were fidgety too, rocking back and forth, laughing nervously and jumping sluggishly between demeanors for no reason at all. It was like a giant PMS-fest, which made Hermione laugh and lightened her mood.

"Bye, loves!" Mrs. Weasley called, her voice shaky as the sleek black train came into view. "Group hug!"

The boys moaned while Hermione and Ginny giggled. They gathered, and even then something felt missing without Fred and George.

Eventually they broke apart, and somehow everyone managed to escape Mrs. Weasley's impenetrable arms and board the train.

Hermione sat quietly in the Heads' compartment, wondering briefly if her friends had found a compartment, wishing she was there with them instead.

She wasn't surprised when Malfoy strolled in, impeccably dressed as always. She had, of course, read the letter she had received with the badge, but she didn't know what she felt; dread, hope, indifference?

She was not used to being in so little control of her emotions, between 7th year and Malfoy.

Hermione stood and smiled gently, fully masking her inner turbulence. "Hey, Dr-Draco." She stumbled, but forced it out.

When he whirled to look at her, his eyes were flashing. "It's _Malfoy_ to you, Mudblood." He snarled. "I'd prefer, however, that you didn't refer to me at all."

Hermione's mouth fell open. _What_?! Her confusion slowly melted to understanding, and then rage. "You ruddy _prat_! How _dare_ you! So, what? This entire summer was a part of your brilliant plan to make me look a fool? Were you hoping you'd have an audience for this moment? Or maybe you'd planned on laughing about it later with those thick bodyguards of yours." She shook her head. "I knew it. I told myself over and over that maybe you've done it, you've turned good. But I was wrong. It's _impossible_ for a Malfoy to be respected for himself and not by fear."

His jaw clenched. "Are you quite finished?"

"Not even close!" She fairly screamed.

"Wonderful," He replied sourly, and left the compartment.

Seething, Hermione went off on her Head Girl duties, careful to avoid Malfoy at all costs.

--

The first night at Hogwarts passed quickly—quicker than she had expected it would. The Great Hall was a blur of speech and light and color and food, and then it was all over.

Hermione felt in a daze as Professor Dumbledore led Malfoy and her to the wing they would share.

"Choose your password wisely," The old man suggested. "Although you may change it upon both person's consent."

They both gave tight nods, and the ever-observant headmaster left, not quite downcast.

"Ladies first," Malfoy's acid voice broke the silence.

"We have to pick a password, dimwit," She snapped back.

"So pick one!"

The portrait, of a young girl combing her hair, watched amusedly.

Hermione closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "Ebenezer Scrooge."

Malfoy stared at her. "_What_?"

She shrugged as the portrait swung forward to let them in. "You told me to pick it." With that, she disappeared.

The common room was, she guessed, completely different than any of the other ones. The couches were softer than the Gryffindor ones, yet somehow more elegant in the deep purple and silver shades. The walls were stripes of purple and silver, eerily lit up by the fire in the firplace. There were beanbags and rugs randomly, yet artfully, placed around.

"_Disgusting_," Came the Slytherin Prince's snide voice from behind. And then something extraordinary happened—all the purple in the room was replaced by emerald green.

No further had the irritated look passed Hermione's face when the emerald took to navy blue, and the silver to a lighter blue.

Hermione gasped. "How is this—"

"Stop being so naïve," Malfoy said sharply, as if he encountered this sort of magic every day.

Without another word, she marched up to her room. The common room turned silver and emerald behind her.


	14. Birds of a Feather

**A/N: I've had a hardd time picking songs for the last few chapters: especially this one, though, because I want it to describe how Hermione and Draco's relationship deteriorated, but how it's also happy in Hermione's eyes, because of what happens at the end of this chapter (no spoilers here, sorry, haha). Read my author's note at the end for a full description.**

**And revieww, please!**

* * *

Chapter 14

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_Perhaps youll receive invitations for tea.  
Perhaps youll laugh and make them all smile.  
Or maybe youll join them cause it had to be.  
Perhaps youll forget you forgot for awhile.  
Birds of a feather are flocking outside._

-Birds of a Feather-

.Phish.

x----------x---------x--------x-------x------x-----x------x-------x--------x---------x----------x

"Hermione!" A male voice called as she made her way to Potions.

She turned and smiled. "Hey."

"How's Head Girl treating you?" Harry asked, falling into step beside her.

"Wonderfully!" Her features darkened slightly. "If only _Malfoy_ weren't Head Boy. He's perfectly dreadful!"

Harry scoffed. "The Amazing Bouncing Ferret? I'm surprised Parkinson let him off his leash."

Hermione smiled gratefully. She had confided in Harry about his recent change of heart; Harry had also known of the summer happenings. She was putting off telling Ron, for fear he might go try and murder Malfoy while he slept.

Harry's features turned serious. "Dumbledore escorted you two to your common room, right?"

Hermione nodded.

"And he didn't make his usual speech this year, did you notice?"

Hermione tried to remember it, but the night came to her as a huge blur. She remembered being upset about Malfoy, and not very comforted by seeing her friends, but everything else was so vague she almost couldn't place it. "Can't say that I did."

Harry shook his head. "He wasn't at any of the meetings this summer, either." He paused. "Hermione…no one besides you and Malfoy have seen Dumbledore in a year."

--

The Potions classroom was eerily silent as Hermione and Harry entered. Every student was already there, and they hastened to their seats.

There was no Snape.

Class began, and ten minutes passed. No teacher arrived.

"I must be dreaming," Seamus Finnigan, Hermione's table partner, muttered. "No, I must be in heaven."

Hermione had to agree. "I can deal with this instead of Potions." She glanced over to see how the Slytherins were taking it; not badly, it seemed. They were caught up in discussions as if they were in the Great Hall.

Ron turned fully around so that his elbows were on Hermione and Seamus's table. "What's going on?" He asked.

Hermione was surprised he could talk through the grin he sported. "I haven't the foggiest idea," She admitted.

Seamus gasped and clutched at his heart. "_What_? You don't _know_?"

"Ha, ha," She quipped dryly while the boys laughed. She looked around the room again. Her eyes briefly caught—_his_. They stared back, unblinking, full of…_ice_. She forced her gave to keep traveling.

And then a man walked in.

He stood well over six feet, just short of giant proportions. He looked like a Norse warrior, with his long braided dirty-blonde beard and long hair. His eyes were wide and fierce, a piercing blue that was almost painful to look at.

When he spoke, it was in a thick Icelandish accent. "Hello. I am Vlad."

And then he began the lesson.

--

Everyone was still discussing the weird new Potions professor—or barbarian—after dinner. Hermione couldn't take part in the discussions; she stayed at the Gryffindor common room for a while, but then she had go to patrol.

With Malfoy.

_Gag_.

He was waiting by the portrait that led to the Heads' dorm. "You're late."

"You didn't have to wait for me." She retorted, turning down a corridor.

"Would you rather I left you alone in the dark?"

"Since when are ferrets chivalrous?"

"Since know-it-alls started going in the wrong direction."

Hermione glanced down the corridor—and abruptly turned to go the other way as Malfoy snickered.

Fully ignoring the ridiculously annoying Slytherin behind her, Hermione continued on. "Lumos," She muttered as the corridor lamps magically extinguished themselves. She swore softly. "I left my wand in the common room."

"That was inappropriate language," Malfoy told her, and even in the dim light radiating off of Malfoy's wand, Hermione could see his wicked smile. "Inappropriate, coming from _Head Girl_. And I suppose you'll have to stay close now."

She snorted. He led, strolling along with the only light source in the near pitch darkness, and she, slowly but surely, melted into the shadows.

He continued on, talking, thinking she was still angry and refused to answer.

The moon glittered through the window she made her way to. Outside, the lawns were bathed in an eerie, almost angelic light. She leaned her elbows on the ledge and gazed out the window.

Hermione was so lost in thought that she jumped and nearly screamed when a hand lay on her shoulder.

A few, long moments later, Malfoy snarled, "Care to join me?"

"No." She replied, and headed off again. She lost herself in thought again as she left—what was _up_ with Malfoy? She couldn't decide how to act around him. Well, aggressive, obviously, but it seemed like their relations had gotten even worse than before the summer, if that was possible.

--

"The Prince of Darkness spreads night once more," Harry read aloud from the _Daily Prophet_. "While not so much targeting Muggles as his predecessor, the Prince has managed to wipe out 13 wizards and witches in an explosion on Knockturn Alley. Dozens more were injured…."

Hermione's lower lip quivered, and her expression conveyed her rage. "That insufferable git! He thinks he can do whatever he pleases…. When do we get to have another go at him?"

Harry raised an eyebrow, and gestured between them. "We? They're saying next summer, if it lasts. They're not letting us leave Hogwarts during the term."

"Are they completely _mental_?" She cried indignantly. "If the Prince wins, nobody will even _need_ schooling."

Harry's smile was tight and grim. When he spoke, his voice was foreboding. "Nothing's going to happen until they realize that."

Hermione audibly sighed and looked around the room. They had gotten themselves a private common room out of the Room of Requirement—just her and Harry. Hermione was sprawled out on a couch, hands behind her head.

"Listen, Hermione…." Harry began hesitantly. "What would you say…to dinner…this Friday…in Hogsmeade?"

Hermione sat up abruptly. "Harry James Potter, are you asking me out?"

Harry raked a hand through his hair, a gesture Hermione knew meant he was nervous. "Well…erm…to get our minds off things…I mean….."

Hermione couldn't help but smile at his distress. "I'd love to, Harry."

* * *

**A/N: The song is talking about how Hermione gets asked out by Harry, hence the invitation to tea, and how even if they have a good time, because maybe it was meant to be between them, but then it talks about how she 'forgot' for a while… forgot about Draco, that is. And the birds of a feather part is supposed to mean Harry and Hermione, 'flocking together,' so to speak; they are birds of a feather because they are both Gryffindor, and best friends, etc. So, surprisingly enough, I think I picked the perfecttt lyrics for this chapter.**

**Anyways, tell me what you think. :)**


	15. Going Away to College

**A/N: Don't worry, folks. This _will_ be a Draco/Hermione fic, but this chapter doesn't make it seem like it. Hang in there—I promise it'll all turn out okay :)**

* * *

Chapter 15

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_I haven't been this scared,  
In a long time.  
And I'm so unprepared;  
So here's your valentine.  
Bouquet of clumsy words;  
A simple melody.  
This world's an ugly place;  
But you're so beautiful to me._

-Going Away to College-

.Blink 182.

x----------x---------x--------x-------x------x-----x------x-------x--------x---------x----------x

Hermione took the stairs two at a time, eager to begin getting ready.

Ginny followed, struggling to keep up, her breath coming short gasps. "What's this surprise, again?"

"Just _wait_!" Hermione repeated for the hundredth time.

They reached Hermione's room, and she flung the door open, and waited till it was shut and locked before turning to Ginny. "I have a date with Harry tonight!"

After Ginny had sufficiently shrieked, Hermione produced a piece of parchment from her pocket.

H.G.— 

_Dress formally. Meet me at the front doors at six._

_--H.P._

Ginny grinned wickedly. "Oh, Hermione, baby, I'm going to have my fun with you."

For the next hour and a half, the girls set to work flat ironing and then curling Hermoine's hair, and applying eyeliner, mascara, clear sparkly eyeshadow, and soft lip gloss. Ginny French manicured her nails, using a clear sparkly shade called Diamond on top. Lastly, Hermione donned her black and silver dress, left from a friend's Bat Mitzvah, and the silver kitten heels she had borrowed from Ginny. (A/N: if you want to see what I thought she might be wearing, check the links at the bottom of the page).

When Hermione did her final twirl in the mirror, after putting on a thin silver chain and matching earrings, and spraying on some Oscar de la Renta perfume, Ginny could only stare. "Well, folks," She finally said, a grin taking over, "The girl has finally done it. Hermione Granger is going on her first date, and the press could mistake her for a princess!"

It was cheesy, but Hermione still laughed, touched by all her friend had done for her. She now didn't look like a woman her mother's age trapped in a teenager's body and desperately awkward about it, but a full-grown teenager ready to take on the world. She gave Ginny a quick hug, donned her cloak, and grabbed her purse.

The girls walked down the stairs to the common room.

Hermione couldn't help but fidget as they walked. She was so nervous that she was oblivious to her fellow Gryffindors that had turned to watch her, surprised and amazed by how different and appealing the normally bookworm girl looked. It wasn't like she had really ever been on a real date before—Krum didn't count, of course. And she had only ever gone with him to the ball. So basically, she had no idea how to act.

Would it be awkward?

Biting her lip, Hermione followed Ginny as they exited the portrait and continued on their way. The seconds ticked down to zero hour, and Hermione could feel herself sweating—how un-girl-like! Disgusted with herself, she tried to imagine how on Earth Harry could be happy to have someone like her as a date.

Hermione closed her eyes tightly. She usually wasn't insecure; so what was happening to her? Well, she usually hid it well. She usually came off as cool and collected no matter what the circumstances; and yet, she had a feeling that that wouldn't be the case tonight. So would that be a good thing, or a bad thing? She wasn't sure, and she wasn't sure she wanted to find out.

They reached the last stairway to the front doors, and Hermione couldn't help but feel disappointed that Harry wasn't waiting at the bottom. She bit her lip harder, almost drawing blood. _Oh well_, she thought, trying to convince herself more than anything, _he probably just got held up._

They descended the stairway together—her and Ginny—and she was glad that her friend was there to support her. She wasn't sure she would have the courage to keep going herself, especially since Harry wasn't waiting for her. She checked the time; it was six o'clock, on the dot.

_You know Harry. He always manages to be late_, she tried to assure herself, but her nasty, self-doubting side cut in; _yeah right. He probably saw you walking down the hall and ran for cover_.

Hermione had never really been on the receiving end of her own nastiness. This was new for her—and she felt like she was close to tears.

And then suddenly, she stood up a little straighter.

_Hermione Granger_! Her head shrieked. _Since when does something this little affect you so much? Stop being a baby and start being a lady_!

Hermione drew herself up and kept her face calmly expressionless. She was okay. She was stronger than him, and she could show him too, that—

Footsteps behind her cut her off. She twirled around, and realized that Ginny was gone; and coming towards her was…was….

She didn't allow her face to change.

Harry stood before her in full dress robes, his messy hair for once combed down, his glasses fully fixed. He smoothed his robes a couple times before finally looking up at her, and when he did, he didn't look away for a long time.

"Hi," Hermione finally greeted, after she was sure Harry wasn't going to say anything anytime soon. She didn't allow her relief to be apparent. It was up to her to take charge of this date, she was sure now. What did she have to fear? If she knew anything, she knew how to take charge. "Wonderful evening, isn't it?"

Harry nodded dumbly.

"Well, come on, then," She told him brightly, holding out her arm for him to take.

Harry shook his head slightly, and then stepped forward and took her arm. He pushed open the heavy oak doors for them, and they stepped out into the cool evening air.

The walk to Hogsmeade was not nearly as awkward as Hermione expected. They lapsed into momentary silences, but they were not in the least bit unwelcome. They would talk briefly, and then the conversation would trail off as they looked around, mostly anywhere but at each other; and then somebody would say something, and they would begin to talk again. Hermione felt herself getting more comfortable as they walked, and she hoped Harry felt the same way.

Hermione couldn't help but be surprised as they passed by the normal restaurants that boys brought their girls to. Apparently Harry had different ideas—different, very _nice_ ideas, Hermione thought, as they finally stopped at their destination.

"Twilight," Hermione murmured, reading the muted letters above the fancy-looking granite entrance to the restaurant. It was very out of the way, looking misplaced down a forlorn, forgotten alley. It didn't seem to be inconspicuous, though, by the amount of people Hermione saw inside as they passed through the glass and gold doors.

"Do you like it?" Harry asked. "Erm…I wasn't sure if…."

"It's perfect," Hermione quickly cut him off. "Absolutely beautiful." Inside was even prettier than the entrance. Candles gave off a muted, romantic sort of light, and the place was done up in dark greens and gold. Every fixture looked like it was made of solid gold. There was also plenty of crystal to be beheld.

Hermione stared around wondrously. She had never, _never_ been in a place this fancy. She had never even _heard_ of a place this fancy!

"Erm…." She heard Harry clear his throat, and looked up to see a gorgeous woman standing in front of him. _Figures_, Hermione thought disgustedly, as she realized the woman worked at the restaurant. "Er…the reservation is under Potter. For two."

The woman nodded and crossed their name off the list. "Follow me, please," She nodded formally, and then turned and began to walk.

Hermione followed Harry and the woman through what seemed like thirty rooms. They finally stopped, and the woman pointed at a cozy booth that seemed cut off from everything else—but then, Hermione supposed, that was what _all_ the booths were like. She hadn't seen any normal tables, only booths.

"Thank you," Hermione said politely as she sat down.

The woman nodded and walked away.

Hermione shrugged and smiled as she smoothed her dress. "This place is _wonderful_! How did you find it?" She enquired as their glasses magically filled with water.

Harry shrugged, and Hermione could swear he was blushing a little. "Wasn't, erm, too hard…." He squirmed.

Hermione laughed. "Okay, you don't need to share your secrets with me."

Menus appeared in front of them, and Hermione quickly opened her. She began to read the appetizers, and immediately her mouth started watering. She knew she couldn't get whatever she wanted, though—this place probably cost a fortune for Harry.

"I think I'll have this," Hermione said, pointing at some dish that she couldn't pronounce the name of. In the description she had figured out it was a sort of chicken, and it sounded delicious.

Harry nodded. "Make that two." He told her, putting his menu down.

The woman that had first greeted them appeared at their booth. "May I take your orders?"

Hermione pointed at the item. "Two, please."

The woman nodded. "And—" she hesitated. "How old are you two?"

Harry and Hermione glanced at each other briefly.

The woman suddenly smiled. "And one house wine? Don't worry, we won't tell your parents." She winked.

Hermione laughed. "Thanks, but no thanks. We're fine. Really."

"All right." The woman was still smiling. "Did you want something else to drink?"

Hermione shook her head no, and Harry did the same. The woman nodded and left as the menus vanished.

The small talk began again, and before she could blink, Hermione found herself talking and laughing with Harry. It was almost like old times, except for that intimate _something_, lingering between them, making Harry's eyes look a softer green than ever before, making his voice sound deeper than before.

Their food came, and Hermione barely noticed. She remembered briefly thinking that it was the most delicious she had ever tasted—but her mind was so wrought on Harry that it was just a passing fancy.

She was mesmerized.

The atmosphere added to her dazed-like mood. Golden bubbles floated lazily around, some with golden fairies inside. It was a dream-like place, and Hermione felt like she could stay there forever; just her, Harry, and the scrumptious chicken.

They opted out of dessert, because they were both so stuffed from their meals. Harry held out his hand to help Hermione out of the booth, and she was so touched she could hardly speak. Even when she was up, he didn't let go of her hand; if anything, he held on tighter. She felt her face heat up, but for once it was pleasantly.

Butterflies shook around in her stomach.

They walked out of the restaurant still holding hands, and as they stepped out into the cool night air, Hermione was thinking that that might have possibly been the best night of her life.

It was colder than Hermione remembered. She felt herself relax as Harry's around came around her shoulders, and she couldn't keep the grin off of her face. They walked back together in comfortable silence, and Hermione felt her insides warming up more and more with each step.

They got back to the castle around nine, and it was almost completely pitch black. "Wait," Hermione said softly as they were about to enter the castle. She took Harry's hand and began to pull him, down the lawn, towards the lake.

The night was too beautiful to lose. The stars were spread across the sky, twinkling pinpricks among inky blackness. Hermione sat down on a rock, and Harry sat beside her, and they looked up at the stars. For once, Hermione was completely at peace with herself, and she had no thoughts to think. Harry took her hand, and she had no thoughts to the think.

A shooting star sped across the sky. Hermione gasped and pointed. "Look!" She whisper-cried.

Harry wasn't looking, though. She turned to him, and he was only looking at her.

Hermione smiled sheepishly. "I made a wish." She said simply, and then squeezed his hand.

As Hermione was getting into bed that night, she let the warmth wash over her like the ocean. It was the most delicious feeling, and she wished it could last forever.

* * *

saksfifthavenue. com/main/ProductDetail.jsp?PRODUCT3C3Eprdid845524446145228&Gotoproduct&sitereferAFF001&siteIDeL3W0LNnyI-OjmWzi4OlqC4bqLXYSPFGQ ---shoes! 

I couldn't decide between these three for dresses, although I do make little modifications on each of them to make them perfect for what I imagined:)

1…bluefly. com/pages/products/detail.jsp?PRODUCT3C3Eprdid2019545943&FOLDER3C3Efolderid5997541&cmpla1539694&cmvenCJ&referercjunction153969410436858kay20unger20dress-2005449-2&cmcat1447957&cmiteKay20Unger20black20polka20dot20strapless20chiffon20dress ---imagine the shiny black straps are silver.

2…shop.nordstrom. com/S/2928476/023767762374327237433160017656001769?mediumthumbnailY&origincategory&searchtype&pbo6001769&P2 ---something like that except no plain mesh parts… because would Hermione wear something that revealing?

3…shopdress. com/Detail.bok?no2605 ---pretend this is in black, but the beading is silver, and the dress is a little shorter, like maybe knee length.

**Get rid of the space between the domain name and the 'com.' Sorry, I had to do it because it wouldn't let me put the hyperlinks on this. I don't know if all the links will work... but if you want them, e-mail me :)  
**


	16. Love is a Battlefield

**A/N: Review pleasee! Thank you to my amazing reviewers but please please please if you're reading this, tell me how I'm doing! One word is fine; just a quick 'good' or 'bad' is better than nothing. I don't mind flames as long as they're not mean…; just review, pleaseeee! Thank you!  
**

* * *

Chapter 16

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_You're begging me to go,  
You're making me stay.  
Why do you hurt me so bad?  
It would help me to know;  
Do I stand in your way,  
Or am I the best thing you've had?_

-Love is a Battlefield-

.Pat Benatar.

x----------x---------x--------x-------x------x-----x------x-------x--------x---------x----------x

The weekend passed quickly, and melted into another week of classes. The teachers were piling up on work, and Hermione felt herself crumbling beneath it. Stress was building up on her, and she couldn't really locate the cause—work was usually her escape, but now it seemed more like a burden.

To her dismay, the unusual amount of homework limited her time with Harry. They hadn't had another date since that night, because they simply didn't have the time. They saw each other at meals and such, but their time was strictly limited.

Hermione couldn't help but sigh every time she thought about Harry. Her idea of love was different than what she had with Harry—her idea of love was obtained from the countless romance novels she read under her covers in the dark of the night with a flashlight brought from home. She wasn't sure if that was an unrealistic kind of love, or something she couldn't get from Harry, or something that would take a while to happen.

Either way, she wished it would hurry up and come. She felt like she was losing in a never-ending battle. Her mind and body together were falling behind, lacking, losing. She needed something; she just didn't know what.

Harry caught up with her on her way into the Great Hall. "Hey, baby," He greeted, putting his arm around her waist.

Hermione smiled, ecstatic that he had called her "baby." She didn't necessarily feel anything, but her mind was doing cartwheels and blowing up balloons.

A harsh voice cut through her joy. "What's this? Potty and the Mudblood? What a perfect match." The sarcasm was almost tangible.

Hermione whirled, her eyes narrowed. "Do you have a problem, _Malfoy_?" She demanded, her voice ridiculously angry. He shouldn't provoke her this easily—she was fighting with herself, screaming at herself to calm down and walk away, but for some reason she couldn't. She had to prove something to him.

Malfoy snickered as his eyes grew dangerously dark, like a stormy night. "No, not at all. Go continue your unsanitary romping. As long as you stay far, far away from me. I don't know if I could handle that much filth around me at one time." His sneer was worse than it had ever been—it was worse than it had been in previous years.

Hermione saw white-hot flashes in front of her eyes. She felt like she was going to explode. Her body began to shake, but she didn't notice; she was focusing on her anger, trying to contain it, trying to make it go away with rainbows and lollipops, but it wasn't working—

She was losing.

"Listen here, Malfoy!" She roared, taking a step closer, her fists balled. "You haven't the foggiest idea what you're talking about. Just because you're stuck with that pig-faced whore, Parkinson, and you're miserable, doesn't mean you have to hate everyone who's happy and in love! You think everyone cares so much what you say, but I DON'T CARE WHAT YOU THINK, I NEVER HAVE, and I NEVER WILL! So what makes you think that the more you say it, the more I'll break? Because I WON'T. So I think you need to budge up, turn around, and walk away before I decide to hex you into next year." Still fuming, she turned around and stomped away. Her breath was coming in short gasps, and she still felt like at any moment, she would spit fire. She hadn't realized how many students were staring at her, or how loud her scariest roar was—she had definitely unleashed a side no one had seen before.

Harry caught up with her, and rested a hand on her arm. "It's okay, baby, you won. He doesn't know what to say—you can tell. Have I ever told you that you're amazing?"

Hermione let out a breath and smiled. "No."

Harry laughed. "You're amazing."

--

Lunch was quiet, and Hermione made sure to keep her gaze away from the green and silver table. She felt their death glares cutting into her back, but she flipped her hair and ignored them. It was nothing horrendously new.

As soon as lunch was over, Hermione hightailed it to the library. She was done with _people_ for the afternoon; they had caused enough trouble.

She even ignored Harry, who was yelling after her that he wanted her to come somewhere with him.

The library was her haven. She collapsed in a chair and pulled over the heaviest, thickest, oldest, mustiest book she could find. A presence filled her mind suddenly; she looked up, and saw Malfoy. He was standing there, looking down at her.

"M-may I help you?"

He said nothing, just sat down.

They both sat there, not talking, Hermione stiff and uncomfortable. She had no idea what he wanted, or what he expected from her after hurting her so badly. She had nothing to give him…so why did he stay?

The time flew by, until she realized she had two minutes to get all the way down to Potions. She gasped and threw the book down on the table and raced out of the library, not even stopping at Madame Pince's stony gaze, forgetting all about Malfoy, not wondering where he had gone to.

The floors squeaked under her shoes. A minute through her mad rampage, she realized she was the only student left in the hallway. _Uh-oh_, she thought miserably. It was only her second potions class with Vlad, and he would probably hate her now—this was not a good start.

Hermione kept skidding until she finally reached the stony dungeons, and her shoes stopped their wild ride. She ran like the wind until she reached the stone door to the Potions classroom, leaning against it and trying to catch her breath. She stood there for a few minutes, doubled over, trying to capture more breath in her lungs, and finally, when she regained her composure, she stood up straight, smoothed her robes, and opened the door.

Vlad didn't acknowledge her presence. He kept on teaching, and Hermione carefully, softly shut the door. She looked around the classroom; she should probably take the seat closest to the door so she wouldn't disturb him further. Someone's books were on the two-person table, but nobody was sitting there, so Hermione took the other seat. She laid her books down, and tried to zero in on what Vlad was saying.

Vlad finished his speech and turned his gaze to Hermione. "Miss Granger, is there a reason for your tardiness?"

Hermione shook her head forcibly. "No, sir, I'm sorry. I lost track of time." She realized how stupid she sounded, and hung her head ashamedly.

The Gryffindors all cracked up good-naturedly, because they knew she had been in the library. The Slytherins all sniggered cruelly, but she easily tuned them out. Her attention turned back to the front of the room and she began furiously copying down notes that she had missed.

She felt a whoosh of air as the classroom door opened behind her, and then shut again; she shivered slightly, and tried to pull her skirt down a little bit to cover her freezing legs.

"Mr. Malfoy. So good of you to join us." Vlad said, his voice thick with sarcasm. "Do you have an excuse or shall I save time and move ahead to the punishment?"

Hermione froze when Malfoy sat down next to her. "No, sir, I don't have an excuse." She felt his gaze on her for a second, but then it was gone and she wilted.

"Both our Head Boy and Head Girl, tardy on the same day? How very interesting." Vlad said, as if he didn't find it interesting at all. "Detention, both of you, tonight, to be served here, with me, at seven." With that, he turned and kept on teaching.

Hermione almost smiled—finally, a fair Potions master! And yet, a detention with _Malfoy_?

The icing on the cake came at the end of class, when Vlad turned to the class and said, "Your current tablemates will continue to be your tablemates." He nodded once, and then class was over.

Hermione gasped and stared. _Are you _kidding_ me?_ She thought incredulously. _NO!_

Harry and Ron were high-fiving as they exited the class. Apparently, the rest of the class had gotten to choose their seats.

Hermione stay deathly silent, her knuckles white because her fists were balled so tightly.

Harry put his arm around her. "Herms? You okay?"

Hermione shook her head. "My tablemate is _Malfoy_," She growled. "Figures, the one day I'm late!"

"_Malfoy_?" Ron repeated. "Merlin's beard!"

"Ronald, you're not helping the situation," Hermione told him tightly.

"Sorry," Ron apologized sheepishly.

Ron and Harry talked while they headed off to their next class, and luckily, halfway through the discussion that she had no part in she got to leave them for her own next class. She grabbed her books from Harry and was off, trying to clear her head and her thoughts. It was a hard thing to do—so many thoughts were running through her head that she had no idea where to start.

She crashed full-on into someone, and jumped backwards, quickly apologizing.

"Watch out, _Granger_," A snide voice told her.

Hermione looked up to see Pansy Parkinson staring at her. She had a good two inches on Pansy, but she was in no mood for another face-off. "Parkinson," She barked tiredly. "Just sod off and nobody has to get hurt."

Pansy took it as a challenge. "Oh, yeah? And what if I don't?"

Hermione growled and took a step forward, forcing Pansy backwards. She was in a dangerous mood, and whatever happened now, wasn't her fault. She had tried to warn Pansy… "You don't even have your ferret-boy here to help you. What will you do now?"

A new voice joined the show. "Actually, she does." Malfoy stepped out from some shadows, looking fittingly evil and ruthless.

"Oh, would you look at that. Once again, Parkinson's arse is saved by a _higher being_."

"You'd better to believe it, Granger," Malfoy spat.

Hermione closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "I don't want any trouble today. Please. Can you both just leave me alone?" She appealed.

But what did she expect? They were Slytherins.

"Aww, the mudblood wants us to leave her alone!" Pansy crowed. "Isn't that sweet? Isn't that _precious_?"

Malfoy's face stayed hard as stone.

"I'm going to ask one more time—leave me alone." Hermione snarled.

"And if we don't?" Pansy asked, sounding amused.

Hermione twirled her wand casually between her fingers. "I don't know. I just wouldn't want anything particularly dangerous to happen to your puppy over here." She jerked her head in Malfoy's direction.

Malfoy stepped forward. "Excuse me?" He asked angrily.

"You heard me. Go to Parkinson. I think she wants you to sit. Or roll over."

Malfoy brought his head down close to her face. "Go to _hell_, Granger, you mudblood whore." He whispered before turning and walking away.

Hermione took deep breaths to even her breathing and keep herself from running after him and hexing him. _He's not worth it…he's not worth it…he's not worth it…._

Her chest felt like it would cave. What was wrong with her? Why did he affect her so much? She forgot about classes—about everything. All she could do was turn, and run.

--

Hermione raced into her room, her head pounding.

The bed looked so inviting, so fresh and not judgmental. She collapsed on it, the blood rushing to her head, feeling like she was going to explode from lack of…screaming. Crying. Anything.

But it wouldn't happen. She slowly sat up. He wouldn't break her.

Before, it had felt like the more she repeated his words in her head, the worse her ailments got. But now it was like the more she repeated them, the stronger she felt she could defend herself against them. Seven words—what could they do to her? He had called her that and much, much worse so many times before. What was different about today? He had no control over her, or her mind, or her actions. _None_.

He was an unfair boy, was what he was. He constantly led her on, and just when she began to have hope for him, as a friend, an acquaintance, he shot her down a hundred times over.

And yet, it couldn't affect her. She was stronger than that—better than him and his petty attempts to make her snap.

Her legs returned to their normal state, and they no longer felt jelly-like when she stood. They supported her. She walked; she didn't fall.

This was progress.

Her door was still partially open, because she hadn't the energy to slam it when she had come in. She slightly tripped through, and emerged at the top of the stairs that led to the Heads' Common Room.

What would she give to still be in the Gryffindor dorms right then?

It took nearly ten minutes to get all the way down the sleek stairs. The pressure in her head was slowly subsiding, and it didn't feel anymore like any moment she could keel over.

She expected to find everyone in the Great Hall; it was, after all, dinner. But it was so far away, and such a long walk, and she wasn't sure if she would be able to….

A yell crushed her thoughts. "Hermione!"

The voice was familiar, and safe, and—she rushed towards it. And then her steps slowed to some sort of trepidation, and she reached the portrait at the end of the common room. "Ginny?" She whispered.

"Hermione, let me in! Or come out!" The Weasley girl demanded.

Silence. Hermione stared at the portrait. Her mind was so befuddled that she couldn't think of what she was supposed to do; how she was supposed to clear this obstruction.

Abruptly, the portrait swung open, and her sluggish reflexes nearly got her hit in the head. She ducked slowly, and once the portrait was opened, struggled through the revealed passageway.

She saw Ginny's flaming red hair before the rest of her.

"Hermione!" Ginny gasped. "Are you all right? You look—" The girl had the decency to stop herself.

Hermione knew she looked ghastly, somewhere in the back of her mind. It didn't affect her presently, and so she stowed it away; it wasn't even painful to have it brought back to the forefront.

"Let's go get dinner." Ginny made a pretense of cheerfulness.

Suddenly, Hermione's headache was gone. Her strength had returned. It had never left—she wasn't broken. A smile spread across her face. "Yes. I'd like that."

The Great Hall was still packed. Hermione had expected only the last few stragglers to remain—however, it was earlier than she had anticipated. She could get lost in the crowd here, but there was most chance of being noticed, commented on, teased, insulted—

Ginny's pull interrupted her thoughts. "Come on, then. I'm hungry!"

Chivalrously enough, the boys had saved them seats. Hermione's was in-between Harry and Ron, or at least Harry moved over for her, and Ginny's was on the other side, opposite her, between Neville and Lavender.

"Fancy some lamb chops?" Harry asked Hermione.

She grinned. "Yes, please." She watched while her friends generously filled her plate for her. Thankfully, nobody commented on her appearance or anything. She was free.

"So what has everyone been up to?" She asked cheerfully.

Everyone looked at her strangely. She was never usually this peppy—always worried about something. Or mad at someone. At least, recently; but they stapled her mood swings to her heavy workload this year, and her Head duties on top of that.

Nobody questioned her, now.

"Work!" Ron replied loudly. "Every day, every bloody teacher thinks they've got something to prove by giving us arseloads of work!"

Hermione clucked her tongue sympathetically.

"I, for one," Lavender put in happily, "Am excited for the Hogsmeade trip next weekend."

Hermione clapped her hands delightedly, while everyone looked on at her childlike enthusiasm. "Oh, me too!" She closed her eyes and breathed in deeply. "I can almost _taste_ that butterbeer." She took a sip of her pumpkin juice. "Mmm, mmm, mmm."

Ginny laughed and rolled her eyes. "Are you lost? First years are down there." She pointed down the table to where all the tiny kids were sitting.

The rest of the night wore on, and Hermione lost herself in her joy. She practically gave up _all_ thinking, the entire duration of dinner—and then at the Gryffindor common room later, playing Exploding Snaps and pretending everything was like it was before….

Everything _was_ like it was before. Nothing had changed. She was still strong, and she would not break.

She fell asleep smiling, and she had sweet dreams that night.

* * *

**A/N: Longest chapter ever?!**

**So like, reviewwwww.**

** Thanks times a millionn!**

** And this is definitely going to become DMxHG really really soon. Like, within the next three chapters.**

**Sorry the song lyrics aren't the best; I don't really have hte energy to keep looking for better ones ;)**

**And let me know if this chapter is kind of confusing; I wrote the end before the beginning and tried to put it together so let me know if I need to revise. Thanks!**

**I love youuu :)  
**


	17. Your Wildest Dreams

**Chapter 17**

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_Once beneath the stars, the universe was ours;  
Love was all we knew, and all I knew was you.  
I wonder if you know, I wonder if you think about it;  
Once upon a time, in your wildest dreams._

-Your Wildest Dreams-

.Moody Blues.

x----------x---------x--------x-------x------x-----x------x-------x--------x---------x----------x

Potions the next day was interesting, to say the least.

Vlad had turned out to be not such a bad teacher, although his means of teaching and lessons were quite different from Snape. Some of the potions he mentioned even _Hermione_ hadn't heard of; and he always made a control potion and tested it out on different creatures so the students could see the effects.

Sometimes, it wasn't too pleasant.

Hermione had only been Malfoy's table partner for a day, and already she was annoyed with him. All he ever did was—nothing. Just that. He sat there and did what he was supposed to, and nothing more, nothing less.

No. She didn't care. She was more concerned with the notes Lavender was sending her from across the room about how Vlad should get back in his time machine, and the actual things Vlad was teaching.

A thought occurred to her suddenly, in the middle of the Wingless Flying Potion (who knew such a thing existed?) lesson. Was Vlad even a Norse name? It could be, but—but then again, maybe he wasn't even Norse. The thoughts flashed, and left. She didn't care anymore.

_A.D.D. much_? She thought wryly to herself; her thoughts were bouncing faster than they ever had before. She set her mind to focus, and everything came tumbling back to reality.

She was okay now.

Maybe it was the aftereffect of being bored out of her mind. Even Seamus had talked more than Malfoy—he just sat there like the boy statue. And even if Seamus talked the Quidditch right out of her brain, he still entertained her slightly; a little bit; at least more than her new table partner.

Since when was she like this? She really needed to shake out of it. She kept tuning Vlad in and out, and it was freaking her out. What was wrong with her? Why couldn't she concentrate?

She put her mind to it. She didn't waver once for the rest of class.

At the end of class, Vlad strode over to her and Malfoy's table. "Both of you missed your detentions yesterday," He announced, his tone harsh.

Hermione gasped and threw a hand over her mouth. "Professor, I'm so sorry, I—"

Vlad waved it away. "It will be rescheduled to _tonight_. I expect you both to be there or else we might have to find an _alternative_ punishment." His eyes were not unkind as they traveled over Hermione and Malfoy.

Hermione nodded robotically. "Of course, Professor. Definitely."

When she turned to the Slytherin, who hadn't said anything, she realized he was already gone.

--

"…looked like you were spacing, a little." Harry was commenting, smirking at Ron. "Staring at a certain girl friend of yours?"

"Not girlfriend!" Ron protested, the tips of his ears firing up.

Harry made a face. "I know you _want_ to take it that way, but I said girl friend. Not girlfriend."

Ron looked at him like he had gone completely mental. "I reckon you should get your head checked, mate."

Hermione laughed. "Come on boys, play nicely."

They both turned to look at her. "EW!"

She laughed harder. "Stop being all…like that! Come on. Let's go get lunch so I can go to the library."

Ron groaned. "Again? You should keep a library log. Madame Pince shouldn't let you in more than thirty hours a week. I think it's bad for your health."

"Yeah," Harry agreed. "All those…um…_musty_ books. You could get allergies." He added helpfully.

Ron rolled his eyes. "Why're you so wonky today? Maybe a little food would do you good."

They continued their banter to the Great Hall, where they found their other friends and ate. Hermione ate quickly, gulping down her food, and left with a quick good-bye; she needed to get to the library and somehow spark her interest in Potions again. It wouldn't do to be uninterested in the class.

Madame Pince greeted her in her usual unfriendly way. Hermione barely noticed and hurried to the Potions section, selecting the thickest, oldest-looking book she could find upon skimming through—_A Modern History of Potions_, although the condition of the book suggested otherwise. She dragged it back to a table, and with a small harrumph, dropped it on. The gunshot-like noise made the librarian look up disapprovingly, and then return to whatever had occupied her; the rest of the library was empty, so nobody else was disturbed.

Hermione lost herself in the book, which both comforted and satisfied her. She was, in fact, so lost, that when a voice spoke behind her she started, and was then confused—she didn't know what time it was, and it even took a second to remember where she was.

"Are you finding that book more interesting than Defense Against the Dark Arts?" A smooth, cold voice asked amusedly.

Hermione jumped up and slammed the book shut. "_Bloody hell_! What time is it?"

Malfoy leaned against the table, smirking. "Such harsh words. Why?"

"You stay out of my face, Malfoy," Hermione barked. "I don't need you coming and ruining my day. It's been perfectly nice so far."

His expression turned serious. "I've been meaning to—"

"I don't care." She quickly cut him off. She grabbed her satchel and left the book where it was, looking up quickly to make sure Madame Pince was looking the other way and didn't notice. She removed herself from the book, hurrying towards the door, putting as much distance between them as possible. She didn't need to have to lug the thing back to the shelves.

Infuriatingly, Malfoy followed her, suddenly angry. "Oh, _you're_ a real badass," He declared sarcastically. "What if she finds out? Detention? Oh my!" His taunting voice made Hermione want to sock him.

"Why do you care?" Hermione asked. "Why don't you just leave me alone and run along to Pansydoodle?" Her voice got high and disgusting as she recited one of Pansy's revolting nicknames.

His anger rose. "Pansy and I have nothing to do with each other," He announced, and then wondered why he even needed to prove anything to her. She _had_ made a good impression of Pansy, though…and….

"Listen, Malfoy. I'm giving you five seconds to get out of my face or I'll hex you into your next lifetime." She turned and stalked away without giving him a chance to reply.

He was left standing there, unsure of what to think.

--

"I can't believe you missed it!" Ron said. "The first time in the history of—forever!"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Oh, stuff it."

"For once, the dunce is right," Harry joined in. "I never would've expected this one."

"Will you two _please_ sod off? If you haven't noticed, I'm not exactly a jumping jellybean right now." Her face turned darker.

"Jumping jellybean?" Harry snickered. He and Ron, laughing and teasing and ridiculing, finally wandered off.

Hermione sighed heavily. Even what seemed like the most _mature_ of boys turned sour sometimes. She turned back to the one-thousand-word Defense Against the Dark Arts essay she had to right in retribution for missing class.

The library was quiet and still for some time. There was nobody around—exactly the kind of environment she wanted. Her essay was over within ten minutes, and she was almost disappointed that her busywork was done. She wanted an excuse to stay in the library—not that she ever needed one.

Eventually, she had to head back to her dorm, although she very much didn't want to. The hallways were dark as she walked, although it wasn't yet curfew. She didn't pass a single student on her way back.

On a whim, Hermione headed up to the Astronomy Tower. She wanted to be alone for a while; and not alone in her room, alone in a place that was _made_ for being solitary.

The full moon was out tonight, shining brightly through the windowsill that Hermione was leaning on. Laid out before her were the entire Hogwarts grounds, displayed in miniature, as if she could reach down and pick up Hagrid's hut, or open the front doors with her pinky finger.

The world was at her fingertips.

Heaving a sigh, Hermione's thoughts wandered to the Prince of Darkness. They said that he didn't seem to have an edge for Muggles; what was his final goal, then? Voldemort's had been to wipe the world of halfbloods and everything 'underneath', and any good wizards at that. The Prince's seemed focus on just good wizards.

The thought brought an unchecked wave of relief to Hermione.

For once, she wouldn't be judged on her blood, on something that was not a choice to her. A newfound strength surged through her: she was as much a part of this fight as any. She was no longer the oppressed, but part of the entire group, a common one among the Prince's enemies. He would see her no differently than the rest.

Hermione made a vow that she would find a way to be involved in the fight.

Eventually, her cloudy mind cleared, and Hermione headed back down to the Heads' dorm, tiptoeing, careful to not make a sound.

The common room was empty when she arrived. She sighed.

Well.

What had she been expecting?

--

The bathroom was otherwise occupied when she needed it the next morning. "Malfoy!" She yelled, pounding on the door. "You're brushing your teeth! Let me in! I have hygienic needs too!"

"It didn't seem so by your appearance," He offered, his voice slightly garbled by the toothpaste.

"You're really slipping on your insults," Hermione declared, unaffected by the cheap jab. It was easy to shield herself from him; she had been doing it for a long, long time. "Now let me in!"

The door unlocked, and grumbling to herself, Hermione stepped inside. She almost fell over—Malfoy was standing in his boxers, and nothing else.

"Put some _clothes_ on!" She told him loudly, deliberately turning the other way.

"Forgot about the mirrors, have we?" Malfoy asked amusedly.

Confused, Hermione opened her eyes—oh. There was a mirror in front of her, so she could still see him. Trying to ignore his perfect body, she tied up her hair in a loose bun and started brushing her teeth. She was utterly surprised when Malfoy took out shaving cream and a razor and started to shave.

She couldn't help herself—she burst out laughing.

Malfoy looked over, indignant. "_What_ do you find so amusing?"

"You…shave!" She managed, between giggles and toothpaste.

"Yes, and?" A certain amount of pride crept into his voice. "I'm a man."

She raised an eyebrow. "Okay, Malfoy. I wasn't aware that men were one part façade and three parts coward."

The tension in the room grew tangible. He didn't reply, only stared at her through the mirror—she gulped and looked down, wondering if she had taken it too far. But then she looked back up, a fierce glint in her eye. "Don't look at me like that. You don't deserve anything. If you're feeling anything right now—multiply that by a hundred, and maybe you'll understand what _I_ feel every time you feel the need to dump your anger on me."

There was silence again, the only sounds of Hermione's toothbrush sliding against her teeth.

"I didn't know it hurt that much." He told her, and walked out of the room.

Hermione placed her hands on the cold black marble of the counter and stared at herself in the mirror. Her creamy white skin looked paler than usual, almost ghostly; to keep from freaking herself out, she left, too.

As she dressed, she tried to fight her way through Malfoy's comment. _I didn't know it hurt that much_. What was _that_ supposed to mean? Was he sorry? Did that mean that her comment had hurt him, and maybe he was trying to figure out what a hundred times that would be, and that was a lot? _A hundred times_ anything_ is a lot, you idiot_! A voice inside her head screamed.

Whatever. He could be cryptic if he wanted; she wasn't going to waste time trying to figure him out. At least they were on slightly more civil grounds now. They didn't throw meaningless insults at each other anymore, at least. That was always a plus.

With her new sunny outlook, Hermione headed on to class.

--

Draco finished washing his face and went to gather his books. What was _wrong_ with him? Why had he said that?

Sure, Granger's comment had stung…a little more than he had expected. So maybe it surprised him that his comments hurt her too; he had always assumed she just brushed it off and moved on.

_Of course not_! His mind told him harshly. _Not after all the trash you pulled this summer_!

Trying not to think about the summer, he grabbed his books and cloak and headed out the door. Every time he tried to…well…figure things out, it backfired—it was easier to just stay on solid ground. Hard feelings; screaming, yelling, anger, pain; those were all familiar feelings. It was familiar ground. He could step easily on that, understand it easily. But all this new stuff—being civil to his worst enemy's best friend, a goody-goody mudblood, and everything that went along with it…it was easier to just stay away.

_Merlin's beard, Granger, do you have to ruin everything_!

If his father heard about this, he would be toast. He would be toast crushed and scattered and smeared all over the dungeon floor.

_Go to hell._

Suddenly exploding with anger, he clutched his books tightly and began to run. He ran until his breath came in short gasps, and then his face was masked again, but he could feel the coldness in his eyes as he waded through the sea of people towards his classes. What was happening to him? Every time something went right with Granger, it seemed like he slipped further into some dark, evil abyss.

_Damn you, Granger_.


	18. The Joker and the Thief

**A/N: Sorry for the huge delays! I've been in India for a month, and then camp for two weeks, and I found out I'm moving again right before I left to visit friends in my old town for a week. So. I've been a bit busy. I know the lyrics aren't amazing, but I think the chapter is a little longer than usual and like always, enjoy!**

* * *

Chapter 18

\\\\

_Can you see the joker flying over,  
As she's standing in the field of clover,  
Watching out everyday?  
I wonder what would happen  
If he took her away?  
Tell you the story  
'bout the the joker and the thief,  
I said, I'll tell you the story  
'bout the the joker and the thief,  
Of the night_

-The Joker and the Thief-

.Wolfmother.

x----------x---------x--------x-------x------x-----x------x-------x--------x---------x----------x

"Herrrrmoiiiineeeee!" Ginny cried, running up to her and around her. "Are you ready, ready, ready?"

Hermione cocked an eyebrow and looked questioningly at Harry, who was following close behind; he shrugged, looking amused. "Ready for…?" She prompted.

"Hogsmeade!" Ginny threw out her arms and spun around. "Hogsmeade Hogsmeade Hogsmeade! Aren't you excited? I sure am!"

"Erm, Gin…you don't think…maybe…you had a little bit too much fudge treacle?"

She pouted and crossed her arms. "No!"

"All right, then." Still looking at her strangely, Hermione began to walk. Harry and Ginny fell into step next to her. "Where's Ron?"

Harry offered a half-hearted, one-armed shrug. "Snogging Lavender, probably."

"_Lavender_?" Hermione demanded, practically choking. "You're not serious."

"You haven't noticed they have a 'thing' for each other?" Harry replied, surprised. "I'd have thought you'd have noticed."

"Apparently not," She snapped. She couldn't decide what she was more annoyed about—that Ron hadn't told her, or that he hadn't okayed it with her. Well, not _okayed_ it, but at least asked—or—or—

_Shut up, Hermione, stop being his mother_.

Still, she was slightly peeved that he hadn't mentioned anything to her. Shouldn't he at least have the decency…after….

But that was years ago—two years, to be exact. He owed nothing to her. _Nothing, Hermione! NOTHING!_

Still repeating it to herself, she absentmindedly answered Harry and Ginny when they spoke to her, and before she knew it, they were at Hogsmeade, walking past the Three Broomsticks.

"Shall we?" Harry held the door open for the girls, and they headed inside. The pub was already crowded with old and young alike, and Hermione's sharp eye found the last open table in the place, a small round one in the corner on the other side of the pub from the door, where the windows met the wall.

Harry pulled out Hermione's chair for her, and she settled into it, laughing at his chivalry. Ginny remained standing, with her arms crossed, tapping her foot, looking annoyed, but Harry shook his head. "Tough luck, princess." He snickered, and sat down in the seat next to Hermione.

Scowling, Ginny pulled out her own chair and sat down.

They ordered three butterbeers, and Harry headed to the bar to collect them.

"So?" Ginny whispered, leaning closer. "How are things with you and…" She jerked her head in Harry's direction.

Hermione shrugged, blushing. "Oh, fine. How else would things be?"

Ginny frowned. "What's _that_ supposed to mean?"

"Nothing?" Hermione tried, and then sighed. "Well…there's certainly no chemistry, like in those boo—" she stopped herself quickly. "Like I've seen between some people; say, Ron and Lavender." It was the first example she could think of. Ginny raised an eyebrow. "But," She hastily put in. "Harry is absolutely amazing…?"

Ginny rolled her eyes. "Hermione Granger, you break up with that boy this _instant_!" She growled.

Hermione's mouth fell open. "Wha—_why_?"

"Because," She whispered fiercely. "You are—"

But Hermione jerked her finger across her throat and motioned with her eyes towards the bar. Harry had gotten the butterbeers, and was on his way back.

Ginny narrowed her eyes and gave Hermione a look, like, _we'll discuss this later_. Good thing, because Hermione was confused out of her wits.

Hermione felt like announcing it to Ginny when warm bubbles filled her stomach as Harry sat next to her and slid her butterbeer over to her. She held her tongue, though, and instead took a sip of her drink.

Suddenly, her jug slammed downwards onto the table, spraying butterbeer everywhere. She jumped upwards, knocking her chair back. "I've got detention tonight! It totally slipped my mind!"

"You missed it _again_?" Harry asked, looking at her strangely. "The second time in the history of forever! Where's your head these days?"

"Up your arse," Hermione muttered as she rushed out of the pub.

Harry and Ginny looked at each other. "I'm not sure if that was a compliment." Harry finally said.

They both looked at each other again, and then burst out laughing.

--

Draco headed towards Charms, his knapsack slung carelessly over his shoulder. It was balanced such that one slight jerky movement, and it would come and bash him in the leg. It was okay, though; he was used to abnormal amounts of pain. Setting his lips in a thin, hard line, he marched forward.

Unfortunately, he was intercepted by a certain witch with a pointy hat sitting atop her head. "Mr. Malfoy," Professor McGonagall gave him a measured stare.

Draco stared right back at her, his eyes cold and hard. "Yes, Professor?" His voice was emotionless.

"Mr. Malfoy, I have a few things I need to discuss with you."

Draco laughed humorlessly. "I'd _love_ to stay and chat, Professor, but I have a class to catch."

"You're excused from your classes for the rest of the day." Professor McGonagall's voice was now as cold as his, or colder—like ice; almost tangible.

Draco narrowed his eyes at her, but had no choice but to follow. McGonagall led him up several flights of stairs, and down a few corridors; it took Draco longer than it should have that she was leading him to Dumbledore's—no, McGonagall's—office.

They reached it, and McGonagall muttered the password to the gargoyles, making sure Draco was out of earshot. _I'm not to be trusted, eh?_ He thought bitterly as he followed McGonagall up the small stairs to the door that opened into the circular office.

Almost all the portraits that lined the walls were empty; McGonagall quickly shooed the rest away, and sat in the chair behind the desk. She motioned for Draco to sit as well, which he took his time doing.

McGonagall's face held mixed emotions—she looked irritated, but at the same time, sympathetic.

_Sympathetic. For her least favorite student…._

Dread gathered in the pit of Draco's stomach, and he struggled not to let it show.

"Mr. Malfoy." McGonagall began slowly, "There has been some…disruption…in your family since you have been at school." She spoke in a measured tone, choosing her words carefully. "It seems that your family—or at least, your father—had chosen to rest his allegiances in the Prince of Darkness." She paused as Draco sucked in a breath.

_Had chosen. _Had_ chosen._ The words echoed in his head, and he fought to keep himself in check.

"Mr. Malfoy, your father was killed today at one-fifteen p.m. at the hands of the Prince of Darkness. As of yet, we have no explanation; he had not been sent to complete a task. Perhaps he had just agitated the Prince."

All of the little color he had started out with was gone from Draco's face. He just stared at McGonagall, and his mouth hung slightly open, and his eyes were wide and a stormy, troubled gray.

Professor McGonagall was sure that few people had seen him this vulnerable, and this was the reason she had asked the previous Headmasters, in the portraits, to vacate the premises. She fought with herself to stay seated and not attempt to comfort the boy, because she knew he would probably resent it.

Meanwhile, images were flashing through Draco Malfoy's head at a dizzying speed. He saw himself as a young boy, his father teaching him how to ride a broom. He saw his father laughing at something Draco had said, a real, genuine laugh, one of the few he had ever laughed. And then he saw his father, furious, pointing his wand at Draco and muttering dark curses. He saw him shaking with an anger that had not been provoked, filling the Malfoy Manor with hate and darkness. He saw Lucius white-faced, bowing before the Dark Lord, shaking with fear. He saw his father yelling, "No, anyone but Draco, take me, TAKE ME!" and collapsing to the floor. He saw his father screaming at him, yelling, pointing his wand and crucio-ing him until he couldn't move another inch. The images whirred through his brain like a slideshow, and then they started to mix and melt and twist until he couldn't decipher them singly anymore, but were a whole, his father—his father that no longer—that—

He let out a yell and his head fell between his knees. He wasn't aware of anything anymore. He wasn't aware of McGonagall getting up from her seat and coming around to his side of the desk, or that the portraits were slowly coming back, wondering who the poor blonde boy was—

It didn't stir his brain as he was carried to the Hospital Wing, lifted by a charm; his vision turned inwards and his fathers face swam before him, before a backdrop of every memory he had of him. And suddenly, suddenly he understood, and everything went black.

--

"Professor…erm…Vlad…." Hermione started nervously. She stood alone in his classroom at 8 o'clock sharp. She was a little frightened, she could admit—she was standing alone in a dungeon classroom with a man of giant proportions sitting before her, looking not quite friendly. Where was Malfoy?

Vlad looked up at her. "Miss Granger." He frowned. "Where's Mr. Malfoy?"

Hermione shook her head in response. Her hands started to shake a little—was it just her, or was it colder than usual? She looked down at her hands; they were white as a sheet.

"Chilly?" Vlad smiled a little evilly. "Good."

Hermione's nervousness broke to the surface and almost morphed into fear; but at that exact moment, the door to the classroom swung open and in stepped none other than Draco Malfoy, albeit a little disheveled.

Vlad glanced at his clock, smirked a little, and looked back up at Draco. "Not bad, Mr. Malfoy."

Malfoy raised an eyebrow, as if it was no big deal that he had arrived exactly at 8:00:59, technically on time.

Hermione's head was tilted sideways, and she was looking at Vlad. She was trying to figure him out—he was like a Gryffindor and Slytherin, all mixed into one. Well, maybe a bit more Slytherin than Gryffindor; but he definitely had qualities from both houses, surprisingly enough.

As if sensing her thoughts, Vlad gave her a look. She immediately looked away.

"Your task," Vlad announced, "will be to sort through the store of potion ingredients and discard the spoilt ingredients, or those that will be of no use. He thrust parchment at them both. "Here is my curriculum. Anything that is not in any of the potions that I will be teaching this year may be disposed of."

Hermione's eyebrows raised. "But Professor—what about next year, and—"

"_Miss Granger_," He said sharply, although his voice was not as cold as it could be. Hermione's brain shuffled, trying to figure out what he was up to. "Please do not interrupt me. Thank you. Now, I have put up charms that will prevent you from stealing anything, or throwing out anything that will be useful to me. Please place the ingredients that can be discarded in that metal bin over there." He pointed. "Now, any questions?" He didn't wait for an answer, but instead said, "Good. Now. If you'll excuse me. I'll be back in two hours to check your progress."

"Wait, Professor." Malfoy spoke up. "If you already know what to throw out and what not to, why are we doing this?"

Vlad smirked again. "Mister Malfoy, please keep in mind that this is a _punishment_, and not a useful exercise. Oh, yes, and—this must be done manually, without magic. I will not take your wands, because I will be able to tell if you've used magic to speed up the process." With that, he turned and swept out of the room.

Hermione continued to shiver as Malfoy went and opened the door that led to the storage room of all the potion ingredients. Hermione, with painstaking effort, walked over and looked into the room. She gasped. "I don't remember it being _this_ big!" She said to herself.

Malfoy raised an eyebrow at her, and she realized her mistake. "I mean, uh, I didn't think it would be this big?"

Malfoy didn't reply, or smirk, or anything—he just looked away, as if nothing had happened.

Hermione knit her eyebrows. What was up with him? He looked virtually emotionless. He had no biting comment for her today; nothing close to an insult. She had been quite looking forward to what he would come up with today, since they were past the meaningless insults. She knew that if he had anything to say, it would be painfully clever; perhaps a disguised insult?

There was no chance of that now—not with Malfoy looking frighteningly like an Inferi, completely emotionless. "We'd better get started." He said, and his voice was completely the same, void of any feeling, hard as rock. "You take that side, I'll take this."

They worked in silence, on opposite ends of the large square room. Hermione shuffled through her pieces of parchment, and then looked up at the bottles, trying to match names and descriptions. It was a tedious and, she had learned, completely pointless process, and yet, she kept at it, trying to keep her mind off of the disappointment that had swelled up inside her when she realized that whatever slight expectations she had had for this detention were completely deflated. She jumped when she realized she was thinking these things, and stuffed them away, carefully pretending that that wasn't disappointment, just annoyance at Vlad for making them do this.

"Granger," Malfoy practically barked, and although his tone was cruel, she felt her hopes rising. "You missed one. I'm not doing this over again." He pointed, and then sharply turned away as she felt her insides crushing.

She grabbed the rotten Borkat tails and practically hurled them at the metal bin. The glass bottle magically slowed as it neared the bin and set itself down neatly inside. Her frustration mounted, but she carefully sealed the emotion deep down inside her. She couldn't let Malfoy know that she was on the verge of letting out a feral scream.

Ten more minutes passed, ever so slowly, and to Hermione it seemed that the air was thickening around them. She felt the tension grow; whether Malfoy was oblivious or not, she had no way of knowing, for she refused to turn around and look at him; but either way, she knew the tension was there. It spanned between them, on the verge of snapping—and now, she couldn't be responsible for her actions—she just—

"Draco Malfoy!" She bellowed, whirling on the spot. "What _is_ your problem?"

"My problem?" Malfoy asked sullenly. "I wasn't aware that I had a problem."

"Don't play dumb with me." Her words cut through the air as her eyes narrowed. "Something's up with you, and you have ten seconds to tell me what."  
Malfoy snorted. "And if I don't?" He seemed to realize his error, and added, "Not that there _is_ anything. But if there was, I wouldn't care to share it with _you_."

The amount of disgust in his voice made Hermione recoil. And suddenly, it felt like the thick, heavy air was crashing around them, and she turned, quickly, as her emotions trembled inside of her. She was on the verge of something terrible; and so she quickly stuffed it away and put on a façade of icy coolness. There was _no way_ Malfoy could get to her now—why had she let him in the first place? Her vulnerable spot was gone, long gone, inside her, deep down; from now on, she wouldn't let it show so easily.

With her new resolve, she began pulling bottles from the shelves once again. Her hands weren't shaking anymore, and she barely felt the cold now; she calmly pushed the bottles toward the bin, and they traveled the rest of the way of their own accord. The repetitive motion soothed her, until she couldn't understand why she had gotten worked up in the first place—and that scared her. Usually she could mentally put herself back where she had begun, and it made sense to her, and she could follow her actions, because she always did things rationally. But here she had no comprehension of why she had done what she had done, and it was decidedly making her nervous.

A sudden sound came from the direction of the door, and Hermione jumped, and stuffed her fist in her mouth so she wouldn't make a noise. The door to the closet banged open, and in strode Vlad. Had it already been two hours?

"I hope all is well," Vlad declared, surveying the room. "I am pleased of your progress. It seems no tomfoolery has taken place." He smiled—not smirked, but smiled. "Good. Finish and proceed to your common rooms. I shall not be back in to check again." He nodded once, seemed satisfied, and left, the door banging shut behind him.

An echo stayed in the small room; his booming voice had filled the space so that it was almost an uncomfortable loudness. Afterwards, the silence became so immense that Hermione fought the urge to slap her hands over her ears.

Hermione noted that both she and Draco were still staring at the door; she quickly turned, wanting to keep her gaze as far from the infuriating blonde as possible.

The sudden movement seemed to stir the air, but then all was still again.

Hermione was just about to reach out for another bottle, on one of the higher shelves, when a voice spoke so softly that she almost missed it—"My father's dead."

Hermione's eyes squeezed shut to stop the onslaught of tears that she knew would come. If not now, then later—up in the Gryffindor tower, alone in her bed, she would cry; cry for Malfoy, and his dead father, and how unfair the world was. For now, though, she had to be strong. She turned, and forced herself not to show open sympathy; she knew it would make him run away and hide behind more insults and anger. "I'm sorry."

His eyes flashed. "I'm not." He hesitated, and let out a breath. "And I am. Why?" He gave her a hard look, as if honestly expecting she would have the answers.

"Why? Because he's your father, first and foremost." Her tone grew dark. "Not that he, you know, killed hundreds of Muggle-borns while he was alive. Muggle-borns just like me…." Her voice trailed off, and her eyes were glazed over, staring at a place that only she could see.

Somewhere, stars must have been glittering at that moment; people must have been happy, carefree. Somewhere, there were no problems, and everyone was each other's equal. But that somewhere was not in the storage closet in the Potions classroom and Hogwarts, where the air was so thick it was almost tangible.

Awkward moments had a way of showing up between Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy. More often than not they were about this subject—this simple, clean lean drawn between them. Draco Malfoy labeled it 'Pureblood' and 'Mudblood.' Hermione Granger simply called it unfair, and inhumane. Either way, as hard as they could try and fight it, it would remain stubbornly in place.

Perhaps there was a way to get through it, but they hadn't discovered it as of yet.

"I understand now why he did some of the things he did." Malfoy began, and Hermione's focus returned. She looked at him. It didn't seem like Malfoy was talking to her; he was just talking. "He used to hurt me purposely as punishment—crucio me, and such. I never really understood why he went through such extreme means to set me straight; I kind of figured, like everyone else, that it was just a part of his personality. It definitely got me angry enough to follow in his place. But I think I get it now."

Hermione didn't prod; she really wanted to hear this, for some unexplainable reason, and she didn't want to remind him that he wasn't alone, that she was listening. It was something of eavesdropping, she was sure—but for now she could push that thought away, because there was something inside her that needed to hear this, needed him to keep going….

He continued a few seconds later. "He did it to build character, I think. He assumed that I would have to become part of the Dark Lord's army too; there was no way to escape it. He knew that the Dark Lord was just like that; he would treat me exactly as my father had, possibly worse. My father just wanted to get my ready for it; the beatings stopped after the fall of the Dark Lord. I suppose I should thank him, but I can't seem to—he was an evil man, he really was. But I guess some things change people. I guess my father _did_ love…somewhat." His eyes closed, and his face turned towards the musty ceiling.

Hermione had never Malfoy in such a moment—where he actually spoke intelligently, without remorse or hate, but completely neutral, only speaking what logically made sense. It was slightly hard to believe that this wasn't a dream.

"Of course he loved you." Hermione finally said, softly. "I don't know a single parent in the world that doesn't love their child with everything they have. Some show it in strange ways, but it's still there, somewhere…."

"Is it, though?" Malfoy laughed harshly. "I think I'll never have kids. It's purposely submitting yourself into a situation where you have a definite weakness, a definite something that can make you bend against your will."

"Oh?" Hermione shook her head. "You can never have a girlfriend, then, or a wife—or a pet, or—"

"It's easier to just have yourself, and no one else to look after." Malfoy's eyes glittered maliciously. "Otherwise you can be forced into things that—"

Hermione snorted, cutting him off. "But what are you trading it for? Your happiness? You would rather be miserable the rest of your life than have a weakness? No wonder you're so aloof, Draco Malfoy." Her tone was accusing. "You don't let anyone get close to you, because you think it makes you more invincible. But let me tell you something—when you get old and die without knowing what it is to love, then _that's_ the real weakness; the real loss. You'll die without real happiness, or true friends, or that sense of security. You may have more weaknesses if you have more people close to you, but that also means more people that have your back. More people to share your victories with, your sorrows. If you'd just open yourself up to people, you'd find that you can be a much happier person."

"Yeah?" He snarled. "Well, what if I never knew true happiness in the first place? It can't be a loss if I don't know what it is!"

Hermione spoke softly. "Then let yourself know it, and you'll realize what you've been missing. You can't honestly tell me you feel complete like that; miserable all the time…."

"Who says I'm miserable all the time?" He demanded.

Her eyes narrowed. "When was the last time you smiled?"

"Today, at—"

"_No_." She barked. "Not _smirked_. SMILED! When was the last time you really, genuinely smiled?"

Silence shook the room.

"Okay, you've made your point. Are you happy now? Will you go back and celebrate with Potty and the Weasel? I'm miserable—you all are happy as poppies. Cheers." His voice was bitter as he turned away.

"No." She said softly. "I can help you, Malfoy. We can all help you. If you'd just—"

He shook his head, and his face was hard again. His voice was once again void of emotion. "I finished my half. Good night." With that, he turned and disappeared out the door.

--

Draco hurried out of the dungeons, bypassing the Slytherin Common Room on his way outside. The building was stifling him—Granger's words were stifling him.

Truly speaking, he felt lost with his father gone. Everything he had ever been taught; all the constraints that had been put on him; they were all gone, passed to the grave with Lucius Malfoy. So now what was he to think? Was he supposed to abandon his Malfoy values and find _happiness_, as Granger had stated so plainly? Or was he supposed to uphold his family name and stay a Pureblood, a notch above everyone else, namely Granger? And now was he allowed to talk to her openly; to not hate her, to maybe become…friends…with her?

His mind whirred as he burst through the front doors of Hogwarts onto the front lawn. The cool, sharp air burst through his brain and instantly calmed him. He began to walk, slowly, with no particular destination. It didn't matter where he ended up; he was already lost, and he couldn't find his way back.

_If you'd just open yourself up to people, you'd find that you can be a much happier person_. Hermione's voice rang through his head.

And then a more dangerous voice filled his brain. _Mudbloods are the scum of the Earth. They waste our air simply for the purpose of dragging their filth around._

_You would rather be miserable the rest of your life than have a weakness?_

_Don't let yourself have weaknesses. They can be used against you, then, and _that_, Draco, is unacceptable._

Was that what he was to his father—a weakness? And yet, they never shared a real bond. They were simply there, existing together, their lives entwined and yet there was no emotion between them, no connection.

Even with _Granger_ he felt _something_, at least.


	19. Killer Queen

**A/N: Once again, I've been a bit preoccupied with tearful goodbyes, packing, moving, unpacking, happy reunions with friends from three years ago (I moved back to a place I've lived before), and finally, starting godforsaken school.**

**I really hope all you people out there that have been reading this can take a little bit of time to review. I really appreciate your opinions! They're like birthday presents, kind of. :)**

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Chapter 19

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_She's a killer queen; got that agility;  
Dynamite with a laser beam.  
Guaranteed to blow your mind;  
Anytime.  
Drop of a hat she's as willing as;  
Playful as a pussycat.  
Then momentarily out of action;  
Temporarily out of gas.  
To absolutely drive you wild, wild;  
She's out to get you._

-Killer Queen-

.Queen.

x----------x---------x--------x-------x------x-----x------x-------x--------x---------x----------x

Hermione hurried back to the Heads' Common Room, her breath coming in short gasps.

Why did he have an affect on her? He shouldn't—he shouldn't have any at all—but now he had a real chance—and he was throwing it all away? And he dared to treat her like—like—

She couldn't find it in herself to be angry with him for treating her like he did. Instead, her rage was directed at the fact that he wouldn't even attempt to be happy now, now that there was no barrier between him and it. He would still act the same, still be miserable of his own accord—

Hermione barely looked at the portrait as she muttered the password and clambered inside. Her bed sounded so comfortable right now; she could snuggle up under the covers and pretend her life wasn't hers; that she was skipping through poppy fields, happy as a clam.

Suddenly, Hermione's thoughts were cut short. Her steps instantly froze, and she almost fell forwards from lack of balance. Her books crashed to the floor, and her face froze. True surprise overtook her.

Almost instantly, the feeling came back to her fingers, and her face was full of color again. "_Professor_!" She whispered. "What—?"

Professor Dumbledore smiled and rose out of Malfoy's favorite armchair, by the fire. The room was now a dark blue, with stars scattered across the ceilings and walls, glittering like diamonds. "Please, Miss Granger. Sit." He gestured towards the sofa, and sat back down again in his chair.

Hermione sat, leaving her books scattered across the floor where she had dropped them. She had never seen the Headmaster look so old; his smile didn't reach his eyes, and his face was wrinkled and worn. "Professor, where have you been? I mean—"

He interrupted her. "Miss Granger, I am not inclined to share all my most dangerous secrets with you. However, I have come to confide in you."

Hermione leaned forward, suddenly eager. Was she going to have a chance now, to help bring down the Prince of Darkness? Was Professor Dumbledore asking for her help, and only her help because he thought she was capable of being a key part of the plan? Was—

"Now, Miss Granger, please don't jump to conclusions. I don't intend to let you leave this castle. Any problem-solving you will be doing will be safely behind these walls. Do you understand?"

Hermione's shoulders sagged, but then she sat up straight again, her face grim. "I understand, Professor." She wanted to help in whatever way she could.

"There are things—forces, evils—at work out there." He pointed out the window. "They are far worse than any Prince of Darkness, and not in a way that suggests brute force, or power. These things are powerful because they are sly, cunning. They will not be defeated by complicated spells, but instead by the solving of a puzzle. Do you understand my meaning?"

Hermione couldn't say that she entirely got it, but as book smarts were her specialty, she couldn't help the excited stir that was starting up inside her. "Not entirely, Professor…but please, go on."

Dumbledore nodded. "Until these forces are defeated, the Prince of Darkness will not fall. And for this, I am enlisting your help. You must consider this carefully, however; this is not a game. I do realize that you are perhaps one of the most gifted students that I have ever known, and I know you are fully capable of solving these riddles and defeating these evils by pure knowledge, but I ask you to please not get in over your head." He sighed now, and Hermione had never seen him look so old. "I ask that you share this meeting with no one. You may not completely understand me now, but you will. This is all the help that I can offer." He stood up, and his eyes lit for a second; in that moment, Hermione saw the old Dumbledore, the one full of spark and luster. His eyes dulled again, and he spoke almost mechanically; "Don't allow yourself to be blinded by the light." And then he closed his eyes, and he began to glow, brighter and brighter until Hermione's eyes were aching; but she couldn't close them. He burst into the most painfully white whiteness that Hermione had ever laid eyes upon.

"Close your eyes, Hermione!" Dumbledore's voice rasped, and this time it was his real voice, the real him—

Hermione shut her eyes, and the pain instantly stopped. When she opened them, he was gone.

Confused and a little creeped out that her headmaster was acting so strangely, Hermione wandered up to her room. Her thoughts from before her run-in with Dumbledore started seeping back into her brain—but suddenly, she couldn't remember where all that anger had been from. Sure, it kind of annoyed her that he still wouldn't take what was being given to him, but the moment of passion was gone.

Sighing, Hermione started making her bed again, even though it was already perfect.

A sharp banging at the common room entrance startled her out of her daze. Confused as to why anyone would be knocking, especially at this late hour, she hurried downstairs. "Who is it?" She called.

"Ginny!" The strong voice replied. The girl sounded almost angry.

Even more confused, Hermione opened the entrance, and stared at a very, very angry Ginny. The girl didn't look it—her face was carefully calm—but Hermione could tell by her clenched fists.

"What's wrong?" Hermione asked quickly, letting the seething girl in.

"Wrong?" Ginny asked, much too sweetly, as she led the way to the couches. "Nothing's _wrong_."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Of course it is. Come on, let it out."

The redhead took a deep breath, and her fists unclenched. She let herself collapse on the couch and sink in for a few minutes, and then she straightened up and was suddenly extremely businesslike. "Why are you still going out with Harry?" She demanded, extremely coldly for being a friend.

"Why am I—" Hermione began to repeat, almost not processing the question. "What do you mean, why am I still going out with Harry? Because I—"

"Don't love him!" Ginny fairly roared at her. The skinny girl was on her feet now, the irritation fully apparent on her face. "You play him around your little finger! He's just a passing fancy for you! You admitted it yourself; you don't feel anything for him, other than the plain fact of _feeling loved_. He loves you a lot, and you can't give him that! And yet, you continue to fool him into thinking that you do!" She began to pace, her face troubled. She whirled again, almost manically fast, on a suddenly pale Hermione. "It's not fair to him. He deserves someone who cares for him, understands him, and _loves him_. He already has best friends—he needs a _girlfriend_, for God's sake!"

Realization hit Hermione with full force, effectively knocking the wind out of her. Therefore, she couldn't speak as Ginny babbled on and on and on.

Finally, the red-haired whirlwind stopped talking and yelling and collapsed on the couch, spent.

Hermione, who had found her voice again, watched her close friend curiously. "Gin…do you like Harry?"

Ginny started, and then stared at Hermione. Guilt etched itself through her features. She looked almost pained. "Er…." Was the best she could do before she hung her head, forcing her eyes away from Hermione's.

Hermione almost giggled. She knew she should feel mad; betrayed, maybe. But the curious thing was that Ginny was right, about everything. _She_ was the one who should feel guilty, the one using Harry as a distraction—from what, though? She knew she was, but she had no idea what she was trying to cover up. Pushing the thought aside for later, she focused on the matter at hand. "You can have him." She said simply.

Ginny's eyes grew as big as saucers, and her jaw dropped. All her normal attitude was gone—all that was left in its place was a little girl that couldn't believe that things were working out. "Wh—_what_?" She asked tentatively. She winced prematurely, as if she was expecting Hermione to suddenly lash out.

Hermione's smile grew. "You're right—about all that not loving him, and using him stuff. I'm good with just being his best friend. If you really like him, then you can have him."

Hermione heard Ginny's hard swallow. "A—are you sure?" She whispered, looking up at the older girl in awe. "I mean, he _is_ yours, and I don't want to take him—"

"Do you want him, or not?" Hermione laughed, her eyes sparkling.

Suddenly, Ginny was herself again. She jumped off and launched herself onto Hermione, throwing her arms around her. "Thank you so much!" She practically shrieked in Hermione's ear.

Hermione made a face and wrestled the girl off. "Why don't you save that for Harry," She suggested playfully.

Ginny rolled her eyes. "So how are you going to break the news?" She wanted to know, bouncing on the couch.

Hermione shrugged. "I think I'm going to have to wing this one. Don't worry, I won't blow your cover. I'll try to get to him tomorrow, and then in about a week, maybe you can jump in for the kill?"

"A _week_?" Ginny practically exploded, glaring at Hermione. "That's like asking a Squib that suddenly realized he actually _is_ magical to hold off the spells for a week!"

Hermione laughed. "All right, fine. I'll do my part, and then you can do whatever the hell you want."

Ginny raised an eyebrow. "First, suggestive comments. Then, bad words. What has gotten _into_ you, Hermione Granger?"

She shrugged. "I, eh, got my hands on the Malfoy Code of Conduct while he wasn't watching?"

They both laughed at that.

"Okay, I'm going to go sleep tomorrow…prepare for the big day tomorrow," Hermione told Ginny, and winked. Somehow, she didn't feel nervous about breaking up with Harry.

"I guess I'm being kicked out," Ginny grumbled, but she was smiling a little. "Thanks again, Herms."

Hermione laughed. "No problem…but if you have a problem again, please don't come in looking like Malfoy stole your panties. I hadn't the foggiest idea what was wrong with you, and to tell you the truth, I was little scared."

Ginny flashed a brilliant smile. "Absolutely. Good night!"

"Night," Hermione called, and waited for Ginny to leave to head upstairs.

--

The next morning dawned bright and early.

Hermione sprang out of bed, almost excited for the day—almost excited for her breakup with Harry. She couldn't explain the feeling, but it bubbled up inside her. She was smiling as she took a shower, brushed her teeth, washed her face, and got dressed for the day.

Breakfast was just starting in the Great Hall. This was her chance. She hurried down to the tables, and ate quickly; she didn't stop to chat with Harry, Ron, or anyone else. She shouldn't have bothered, though; she had to wait for him to finish his meal. In the offbeat chance that her news would cause Harry a little pain, she figured it was only fair to let him finish breakfast.

She was watching his plate like a vulture. As soon as he at the last bite, she pounced. "Harry," She smiled sweetly. "Can we talk?" She nodded her head towards the Great Hall doors.

"Sure," Harry replied, grinning broadly.

Seamus Finnigan, sitting nearby, shook his fork and his head. "Bad, bad words, mate. They never mean anything good."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Hermione never has bad news for me." He smiled hopefully at her.

Hermione's smile stayed on her face, but she felt her stomach drop guiltily. Maybe this would be harder than she thought—but she had to go through with it, for Ginny's sake. The poor girl's heart was practically ripping out. She already felt a little bad for not noticing without having to be basically confronted.

She kept up her happy pretense and chose a dark hallway to lead him down. She pushed him up against the wall, and he looked a little confused and a little excited. _Sorry to burst your bubble_, she thought, sighing. "Listen, Harry…I don't think things are working out for us."

Harry's face was stuck between two emotions—confusion and surprise. Hermione almost laughed, but decided it would not be a good time to. Finally, his eyes narrowed. "What?"

"I just…." She sighed heavily, and began to pace in front of him. He was still standing up against the wall, probably leaning on it, his eyes following her as she went back and forth. "I've been so busy with work, and I don't feel like I'm being fair to you. And you need a girlfriend who can devote all her time to you, because that's what you deserve." She smiled inwardly, happy with her concocted explanation.

Harry looked relieved. "We can work it out!" He told her exuberantly. "We all have a lot of work. I'm okay with you needing more time than most people with it, though. I'm sure we can work it out, because I lo—"

Hermione hurried to press a finger to Harry's mouth before he said the now loathed word. His mouth snapped shut, and he was confused again. Hermione sighed. She would have to put out a little more truth, now. It would probably hurt him, but… what could she do? She had told Ginny she would. "When we first went out, it was because we were both stressed because of…everything that's happening. I don't think that's a good way to start a relationship…if we could call it that. We barely see each other. I don't have enough time to spend with you. I love you Harry, I really do, but it's like a broth—"

Harry's eyes narrowed. "Oh, I get it." He sharply cut her off. "Have a nice life, _Granger_." He practically spit the word at her, and then walked away, head held high, steps measured.

She stared after him, her mouth hanging open. She wasn't going to cry—she just had expected him to understand her. And what else could she have done? She couldn't just go back on her word with Ginny; besides, they deserved each other. She really was just a horrible person anyways.

_Well, that was emotionally draining_, she thought. She let herself collapse back against the non-too-soft wall, just holding herself up and trying to breathe.


	20. Honestly

**A/N: Reviews are wonderful. :)**

**sherrithewriter- thanks for the constructive criticism! i agree, this story went way off where it was supposed to be. it was supposed to be much more lemon-y, much earlier. i'm sorry! i'm trying my very hardest to get back to the fluff, which is the stuff i really love writing. :) and about Harry.. I agree, under normal circumstances he wouldn't be so mean, but some things are going on with him to, that might relate back to Dumbledore... and on top of that pressure, he's feeling a little ditched, you know? anyways, i know that the story's kind of messy right now, but i'm trying to figure out exactly wha'ts up with Dumbledore and clear it up asap, and get that Draco/Hermione stuff going. thanks for letting me know!**

**and thank you to my other reviewers, you guys rock.  
**

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Chapter 20

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_Please don't mind what I'm trying to say;  
Cause I'm, I'm being honest.  
When I tell you that you,  
You're part of the reason  
I'm so set on the rest of my life  
Being a part of you  
You tell me what you think about being open,  
About being honest with yourself._

-Honestly-

.Cartel.

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Draco Malfoy stuck his head out from behind the corridor. He saw that Potter was safely gone, and stepped out into the hallway. She was leaning against the wall, her head back, eyes closed. It seemed she was breathing, so she couldn't be too badly damaged.

"Well, that went well, didn't it?" He asked pleasantly as he made the pretense of casually strolling into the corridor, to make his presence known. He immediately winced—why did he have to be such a git sometimes? Sure, sometimes he thought of really cutting remarks that just couldn't go to waste sitting in his head, but honestly, did he always have to say the first thing that came to his mind? He was supposed to be _not_ attacking her.

Granger's eyes popped open, and focused on him. They narrowed slightly, as if making him out in the dim light, and then dulled. "Please, Malfoy. Just leave me alone."

He raised an eyebrow. "Why would I do a thing like that?"

"Oh, I forgot. Since I'm in obvious pain, it would only be your duty to show up and make it worse." Before he could respond, she gave a small _oh_ and her head snapped towards him. "How much of that did you hear?" Her tone was sharp again.

Draco shrugged. "I didn't want to interrupt, so I waited till it was over."

Granger rolled her eyes. "How gentlemanly of you. I do hope you're happy though. I took the rejection you gave me and passed it on. Now the whole world can be miserable with you."

_Rejection_? Draco thought, confused. A light bulb snapped on in his head. Of course—rejection! He had rejected her help. He had no idea that she actually _remembered_ that…much less cared. He opened his mouth to respond, but then caught sight of her face. It was like she had suddenly thought of something, but was trying desperately to hide it. "What's wrong with you?" He asked, somewhat amusedly.

Her mouth babbled like a fish. "I—I—" She turned, as if to run, but Draco easily caught her arm. She stayed facing the other way for a minute, and when she turned back, she was collected. "May I have my arm back?" She inquired coldly.

He shook his head. "Not until you tell me why you broke up with Potter."

She looked surprised. "Why do you care?"

"Call it curiosity." He replied vaguely.

Granger rolled her eyes. "If you _must_ know, we weren't spending that much time together anyways, and Ginny likes him much more than me, and she deserves him, so—what? Why are you looking at me like that?" She snapped, a little irritated at how she had so easily told him her personal business. His expression—a little hard to understand, since he didn't make expressions all too often—confused her, which only irked her more.

"You would do that?" he finally asked, not sounding malicious or angry but just curious. "You would give up Potter so Fireball can have him?"

"Yes." Granger said icily.

Draco was extremely perplexed. Why in Merlin's name would she give up _her_ happiness for someone _else's_? That was just preposterous! She should march back to Potter right now and—

_Shut up_. He clenched his teeth; his jaw felt like it was about to crack from the pressure. He let out a slow breath. He put his mask back on, and immediately released her. "Why don't you just march back to Potter?" He sneered. "Get out of my face." He was suddenly angry—her happiness was within reaching distance, and she was giving it away. He didn't realize until it was too late that he had been answering his thoughts, and his unexpected hostility had probably screwed things up even further.

He had no chance to find out, because she was gone.

--

Hermione wandered through the halls of Hogwarts, feeling kind of dazed and lost. Her latest encounter with Malfoy didn't even seem real—she was still mentally drained from her run-in with Harry. Besides, she was confused. Why had Harry been acting so hostile? He had even called her by her last name, instead of her first. It was like had had taken on Malfoy's personality, and Malfoy had—

Her thoughts stopped short. She thought back to her conversation with the Slytherin—he had said he didn't want to be rude, so he had waited till the conversation was over. Waited? Why had he waited? He obviously needed to talk to her—or something. Maybe his bully meter hadn't been filled enough and he needed to get some extra meanness in. But that didn't make sense; he hadn't been aggressive at first, when he had started to talk to her. Her analytical mind began to whir.

He had something to say.

Hermione hurried back down the corridor, not really quite sure what she was doing. Since when did she care that he had something to say? If it was that important, he could chase after, running and yelling and—

He was waiting in that exact spot, lounging against the wall, as if expecting her to come back. The thought soured her face. "What did you need, Malfoy?" She asked calmly.

The blonde boy turned his head slightly. In the dim light, he looked like a god; his face was so perfect it was almost hard to look at. "Does your offer still stand?" He asked. His voice was plain—normal. It wasn't a voice she was used to hearing out of him.

Hermione was almost taken aback…but then she stopped to think. _What_ offer?

Oh.

That offer.

She straightened her back and looked him in the eye, ignoring the way his absolute flawlessness unnerved and intimidated her. "If you're willing to be civil, then yes, the offer still stands."

Once again, he was staring at her in disbelief. "After everything I've done, you're seriously okay with it?" His expression immediately turned to stone again, and his voice was haughty. "Not that I care, or anything."

Hermione almost laughed. "It's called forgiveness, Malfoy. I forgot that Slytherins don't understand it. And yes, I'm okay with it. Let's be friends?" She offered her hand, fully expecting him to spit in her face and walk in the other direction.

He stared hard at her, as if trying to figure her out, and then seemed to give up and took her hand in his own larger, rougher one. "Friends." He repeated, and his voice was almost choked.

--

Draco followed the brunette to the library, briefly wondering if the day had been a part of his dreams. Not that he had any dreams like it, of course. Ahem.

He was still partly amazed that someone could be so forgiving, and partly amazed that her attitude towards him could change so quickly. She was genuinely _friendly_ now—maybe she still didn't offer herself as she did to Potter and the Weasel, but she definitely let her personality show. Before, it had been a weakness if either of them showed their true selves to each other. But now, it was an asset.

Draco couldn't help but smile to himself—actually _smile_. Who knew?—as he and Granger walked into the library. It was deserted; nobody else wanted to waste the perfect day in there. That was why they were there; Granger had sheepishly explained that she wanted to let Potter cool off and maybe give Fireball some time to "comfort him," and besides, they couldn't go anywhere where people would see them together.

They found the farthest corner from the door, quite a ways away considering the size of the library. They were well hidden by rows and rows of towering bookshelves, and the beanbag chairs were squishy and comfortable.

Granger dropped onto one, sighing as she sank in. Then she sat up, businesslike. "Okay. First of all, we have to drop the attitude."

Draco was surprised. "I wasn't expecting a lesson," He drawled.

"Of course you were," She told him, sounding slightly annoyed. She sounded like she did when she was admonishing the Wonder Twins. "These are your lessons to happiness." She grinned as she realized how stupid that sounded. "Excuse the cheesiness."

Draco raised an eyebrow. "So basically, you're going to teach me how to be happy?"

She clapped her hands. "I knew you would get it eventually!" Her eyes sparkled as she bounced on her beanbag. "Let's get to it, then, shall we?"

"Granger…." Draco began hesitantly. "I don't know if this is a good idea."

It was her turn to raise an eyebrow. "This was your choice, no? And I think it is a good idea. You could be so much more, Malfoy, if you'd give yourself the chance."

"Nobody else wants to give me the chance." He muttered.

"What?" She asked curiously.

And just like that, he began to tell her. He wasn't really sure why; maybe it was his guilty conscience recuperating for overhearing her private business with Potter. And maybe something inside him just told him to tell her. Either way, he found himself spilling his entire story to her. It was like the episode from their Potions detention—except this time he started way back, back when he was a baby, back before he had realized what a dark place his world was….

He recounted the most horrible of things that had taken place around him, inside him—and she winced and squeezed his hand in comfort. She looked like she was about to cry; but he needed to get this out, all the things that he had never told anyone before in his life. If she was the one that had shown him that his world would never lead him to happiness, she deserved to be the first person he opened up to.

When he finished, he was breathing hard, his eyes staring straight ahead, his head swimming from the dust he had kicked up after so many years of trying to make it disappear.

"It's a part of you," Granger whispered, inadvertently leaning closer to him, trying to comfort him. "Don't wish it away. It's what'll help you learn, and grow, and stop it from happening upon anyone else."

He closed his eyes. The last time he had cried was when he was three years old. And now he was closer than he had ever been in the years since—there was pressure building up inside him, ready to burst….

Her feathery touches on his arm were what did it. She had brushed against him, and now she was holding his hand in both of her own, still looking pained, still looking helpless and yet so solid. As soon as she touched him, his mind cleared, and all he could see was her—her face….

Draco shuddered, and her hands fell off of his. She looked concerned now. "Malfoy, don't—"

He was shaking now, shaking from the heaviness that was creeping through his brain, the type of thoughts that he wasn't used to. They were intertwining with the darkness, causing a sort of thunderstorm in his mind. He began to shake harder, his breath coming in short gasps, his mind racing, his eyes unseeing.

"Malfoy!" Hermione cried, taking both his hands and trying to get his eyes to see her. She threw her arms around him, and his fog lifted a little as a new surge of energy rushed through him. She began to whisper in his ear. "Malfoy, calm down. _Calm down_. It's all over. You're safe here. I'll keep you safe. Don't worry. Malfoy, try to calm down. Try to stop shaking. Malfoy…Malfoy…Draco…."

He stopped shaking almost instantly.

She continued to cling to him, staring into his eyes, trying to believe that his attack was over. "Are you okay?" She whispered, seemingly unaware that her body was almost on top of his.

He didn't hear her. All he heard was his name, echoing inside his head, her voice the source…. And she felt so good in his arms….

His mind wasn't working properly. He didn't know what to do. He had to do something. And so he did the first thing he could think of—he kissed her.

Her eyes went wide, but then fluttered closed as Draco guided her headed in time with his. It was obvious she was pretty new to kissing, but for some reason, that didn't bother him. Electric shocks ran through his body, but they were the good kind. He smiled against her mouth, and he was sure she could feel it.

They finally pulled apart, panting, staring at each other.

Hermione's eyes were wide, and she was touching her lips, almost tentatively, almost scared, almost shy. She had felt it too—the connection between them.

"So this is it." She whispered. "The point of no return." And then she kissed him again.


	21. Make Yourself

A/N: Thanks so much to everyone that reviewed! I love you guys very much :)

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Chapter 21

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If you let them make you, they'll make you paper mache.

At a distance you're strong, until the wind comes;

Then you crumble and blow away.

-Make Yourself-

.Incubus.

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They eventually parted ways, knowing they would see each other later in their dorm.

Hermione felt conflicting feelings behind her joy, but they mostly had to do with the guilty feeling that she was somehow betraying Harry and Ron.

_That's silly_, her practical, somewhat stubborn side reported. _He's changed. It's your job to convince them of that. You're his _lifeline.

The thought comforted her for the moment, but she knew the argument would come up later. It was easier to just coast on her happiness for now—right? She couldn't worry all the time.

She was just walking through a corridor, heading upstairs to her dorm to drop off the books she didn't need, when a certain redhead accosted her.

"Hermione!" The girl was practically bouncing, and her eyes were bright and alive. "I love you so much!" She threw her arms around the girl. "Harry and I have a date for tomorrow night!"

Hermione grinned, wholly consumed by this new joy. A little part of her was a little jealous that he had recuperated so quickly…but so had she. And they both knew—well at least, _she_ knew—that what and Harry had had was more a friendship-with-privileges than a real lust-or-love-driven relationship. "I'm so glad for you guys!" Her brain was worrying again—did she look too happy? Did she give anything away? She instantly made her voice sour. "I needed the uplift, after my little run-in with Malfoy." She knew she was sullying up his name even more now, instead of trying to smooth his reputation over with especially her house, but she couldn't have anyone find out about their relationship yet. She didn't even _know_ if it was a relationship yet. She half expected Malfoy to return to the dorm with a girl in tow and a speech that the kiss had been a mistake.

Instead of being outraged, Ginny's face turned thoughtful, and then suspicious. Hermione felt her heart rate quicken. "Are you _sure_ I'm the only reason you broke up with Harry?"

Hermione was relieved at the question—obviously Ginny hadn't really heard her, or something. She was still doubtful about that? Hermione almost laughed. "Of course not. I didn't feel…much with him. It was more of a brotherly love. It just felt good to _be_ loved—now the thought of kissing Harry just seems awkward." She smiled reassuringly.

Ginny shook her head. "That's not what I mean. Is there…someone else?" She wasn't shy at all asking the question.

Hermione couldn't help the blush that spread across her face. She wasn't used to not being in control of the situation. And why was the girl so god damn intuitive? Or was she really that obvious? "I…uh…." She stuttered brilliantly.

"Yes?" Ginny prompted, obviously a little amused.

The older girl's eyes narrowed, and her voice got clear. "No, Gin. There's nobody else." She almost winced at the outright lie. But it wasn't _really_, right? She hadn't broken up with Harry because of Malfoy. Right?

"Tell me right now who it is, or I'll tell the whole school you've been snogging Malfoy behind their backs."

For the second time, Hermione's jaw dropped. "Then at least you'd be telling the truth," She murmured under her breath.

Ginny's eyes grew wide. "_What_ was that?" She demanded.

Hermione squeezed her eyes tightly shut. She hadn't really meant to say that. Or she hadn't meant for Ginny to hear. Or—

"You're snogging _Malfoy_?" Ginny nearly shrieked.

"Ginny!" Hermione practically bellowed back. "Try not to announce it to the whole country, would you?"

"So you're admitting it, are you?" Ginny shot at her smugly, her arms folded, foot tapping.

"I…uh…." Hermione was at a loss again. How would she manipulate her way out of—

"Don't even bother, Herms. But honestly…what do you _see_ in that ferret?"

Hermione felt an unnecessary, unexpected amount of anger rise in her at the insult. She pushed it back down, feeling that it was unwelcome and definitely not appropriate to the situation. "He's got a lot more to him than you would expect."

Ginny snorted.

"Don't judge him," Hermione advised. "You don't really know him. I don't even really know him too well. But I know he's more than what he seems."

"And how did you happen upon that gem?" Ginny asked dryly. "Was it while he was taunting you mercilessly? Or was it that one time when he tried that particularly painful hex on you?"

"Ginny!" Hermione cried exasperatedly. "He's changed. He really has. He_wants_ to change, at least. That's why he enlisted my help." Her voice got a little defensive towards the end.

The redhead finally had the decency to look surprised. "Your help?" Now she was definitely amused. "Like…good guy lessons?"

"Yes, exactly." Hermione agreed, smiling a little. "Anyways, what was the point of this conversation?"

Ginny ignored her. "I knew it! You'd been bashing Malfoy a bit more than usual when we talked. Or just mentioning him at all, really. I should've realized—oh! And you've been using naughty words, and making suggestive comments. Why didn't I think—" She stopped suddenly. "Herms, do you _like_ him?"

"Well, I can forgive him easily. He's a pretty likeable—"

"That's not what I mean, and you know it." Ginny cut in smoothly. "Now, tell me. Do you like him?"

Hermione stared at the floor, flustered. She finally looked back up at Ginny, who was grinning triumphantly. "Gin…." She sighed. "We kissed."

Ginny laughed. "Well, yes, I got that from the whole announcing-you've-been-snogging-Draco-Malfoy." She hugged Hermione quickly and danced her around. "Is he good?"

Hermione looked shocked by the question, and attempted to avoid it. "Gin! Kissing once or twice hardly means _been snogging_. That implies that this has been an ongoing thing for a lengthy period of time."

"Don't give me that," Ginny replied cheerily. "Anyways, _everyone_ under the age of twenty-five—guys included, I'd expect—have wondered how good, exactly, Draco Malfoy is. He's so hot!"

Hermione whacked at her friend playfully. "Okay, whatever, Ginny. Can we move on, now?"

The girl shrugged.

Suddenly, Hermione's voice grew dark. "Gin…does Harry still hate me?" It had been nagging at her—he couldn't stay mad at her, could he? She knew it hadn't been that long, but still, it bothered her.

Ginny's face was guarded, which was unnatural and out of place on her. "He doesn't hate you, Hermione."

Hermione nodded curtly in understanding. Then she sighed. "I wish he could just see it my way, you know?"

Ginny bit her lip. "Do you want me to talk to him? I mean, I kind of am the reason that you two broke up."

Hermione shook her head. "I knew I had to do it sometime." She looked a little amused, then. "Don't I remember a conversation that went along these lines?"

Ginny laughed. "I'm not joking! I'll talk to him…try to convince him to look at it from your point of view, okay?"

The brunette gave her friend a quick hug. "Thanks! Anyways, I'd better go put my books away so I can get to class on time."

Ginny nodded. "Alright, then. I'll talk to Harry…and let's plan something this weekend, okay?"

Hermione nodded, and headed off, with each stride trying to stamp out one more problem in her complicated life.

--

Evening came quicker than Hermione had anticipated. She had expected the rest of the day to drag on—when dinner arrived, she was practically jumping into the Great Hall. She astonished herself at how excited she was that classes had ended, but it was slowly becoming a pattern. She figured that her interest in her studies would come back eventually, just not now, when she had so much on her mind.

Hermione sat down at dinner, glad that she was one of the first ones there so she wouldn't have to figure out any drama with Harry. He could sit where he very well pleased—briefly she wondered if Ginny had gotten around to talking with him yet. _Probably not, considering you just discussed it with her two hours ago_, she admonished herself.

Ron came in first with Lavender and Seamus; Dean walked in next, followed by Luna. They covered all the spaces around her—that left no room for Harry and Ginny, really, but maybe that was better; Harry wouldn't have a chance to add to her headache.

"Guess what!" Lavender cried when everyone was seated and digging in.

Hermione had planned on listening intently to whatever she had to say, but her thoughts were suddenly pulled elsewhere—the night before, Dumbledore….

She recalled something Harry had told her a few days, a few weeks, maybe, ago; _He wasn't at any of the meetings this summer, either. Hermione…no one besides you and Malfoy have seen Dumbledore in a year._

It was now mid-October, meaning that Dumbledore had been MIA for over a year—and the night before, he had chosen to see _her_? Had he been visiting others, too? And if so, then why not Harry? She was pretty sure that Harry would be the first one that Dumbledore would go to, or one of the first. But perhaps not, now that he wasn't tied by prophecy….

The whole thing was making her head hurt; this in itself was unusual. Usually puzzles like this made her senses sharper, refined her intuition, turned her slightly superhuman of sorts—

She changed direction abruptly. Puzzles. _Puzzles_. Was this one of the puzzles Dumbledore was talking about? Was he maybe being held…captive by the Prince, or whatever other evil force he had been talking about? Maybe she was supposed to figure out what was happening to him, and stop it. But she had no evidence, nothing to base anything on—what was she supposed to research, how could she stop this?

Her thoughts quickly broke when somebody's fist drove into her shoulder, not too hard but none too gently either. She blinked; it was Seamus, who was sitting next to her. "Aye, earth to Hermione?"

She made a face. "May I help you?"

"Lavender believes that you heard nothing of her exciting announcement." Seamus told her formally. "Please correct her, and tell her that you're capable of thinking brilliant thoughts and listening at the same time."  
"Um." Hermione said, so intelligently. Was it just her, or was she getting…_dumber_? Well, not necessarily dumber, but…well…how could she describe it? She was losing her lust for school, and she could no longer multitask, or so it would seem, and the right situation wasn't making her better at figuring out problems….

"Hermione!" Lavender's shrill whine once again filled her brain. "Did you hear me?"

Hermione jumped up out of her seat. "Sorry, Lav. I just thought of something. I have to go."

She ran out of the Great Hall, knowing and not knowing her destination at the same time. It lurked in the back of her mind, and she found her feet beating their familiar path to the library. She sighed in relief—at least one thing was normal, and would always stay that way.

Upon reaching the library, Hermione found that she had somewhat run out of wonderful ideas. What should she search for first? Light? Blinding light? That made sense, because Dumbledore had warned her against getting blinded by the light. So perhaps that meant that one of those 'evil forces' was connected to some sort of light that blinded….

Frantically, she began pulling books from shelves, thrusting them down on tables and perusing. There was a sort of urgency in her that she couldn't explain, but it was starting to evolve into hysteria and she had no idea why, but it might have had something to do with losing everything that defined herself—her love of learning, her acute sense of what to do and how to do it and where to look for vital information.

She collapsed into a chair again and again, with a new book, the older the better, the thicker and dustier—and eventually she forewent the sitting down and stood and drew her finger along the ancient pages, searching for an answer, a clue, anything;

But even she knew that eventually her energy would drain out, which was something else that bothered her. When she was in this sort of intellectual frenzy, she forgot about eating and sleeping and all that—but firstly, this frenzy was more of a whirlwind and losing grip than excitement, and secondly, she was fully aware that she could barely move her body.

It was as she was sitting in the chair, trying to calm herself down, knowing she would get nowhere until she did, trying to resort her brain and get herself back, that she realized that whatever she was looking for wouldn't be in the normal library. She would have to sneak into the Restricted Section, which right now seemed like an obstacle miles high.

Perhaps a nice rest would help her. The next day was Friday, anyways, so after classes she would have the entire weekend to work on it. No need to push herself today. Besides, she should try and rejuvenate for classes, try and regain her lost interest.

The library was deserted as she emerged from behind the towering shelves. Madame Pince watched her leave, and seemingly started locking up. How late, exactly, was it? She had no idea, but she knew that she needed her bed, and soon.

The hallways were eerily quiet. The torches were still lit, but she had a strange feeling that they would go out soon. As soon as the thought crossed her minds, all the torches magically extinguished; a burst of fear rushed through her, which she wrote off as silly because she hadn't been afraid of the dark since she was a little girl, and what was the difference between this hallway in the light and in the dark anyways?

At least she had her wand. She took it out and whispered the spell, and it lit up to guide her. Her eyes stayed fixed straight ahead: the hairs were standing up on her arms and the back of her neck, and she was starting to sweat a little. Where was all this fear coming from? Where was her courage? All kinds of strange beasts began clouding her imagination, and she kept turning to glance over her shoulder.

_Nothing's there, Hermione_, she told herself, but she couldn't be reassured.

What was _wrong_ with her?

Now more freaked out by herself than by the darkness, she broke out into a run, eager to fall asleep and forget this somewhat nightmarish day. She felt like she was falling apart, and that was terrible because Hermione Granger _didn't_ fall apart. _Ever_. She was the support for everyone, all the time. And now was definitely not a good time to be falling apart, when Dumbledore so obviously needed her, when the world so obviously needed her.

She felt silly for being frightened when the entrance to the Heads' wing appeared in front of her. She quickly said the password and practically fell into the common room.

The room was emerald and silver—so okay, Malfoy had been here, because she had been the last one to leave this morning. The room began to change to navy blue and powder blue as she stepped further inside, and she nodded happily.

"What are you nodding about?" A gruff voice asked her. "You look like a bloody bobblehead."  
Hermione couldn't help the smile that crept onto her face as she turned to look at him—he was standing on the stairway that curved up to his room.

"The room. It's so pretty." She replied truthfully, not in the mood to think up something witty.

He frowned. "What's wrong with you?"

"Something's wrong with me?" She asked innocently.

He nodded, looking thoughtful. "I don't know what, though."

She was surprised that he could tell—she hadn't expected him to be that perceptive. But then again, she hadn't expected a whole lot from him.

She really didn't want him to know, though, for some reason—she didn't want him to see that things troubled her, perhaps. Was she being prideful? Now wasn't the time to analyze her feelings. So Hermione did something she rarely, if never, did—she ran. "I'm really tired, actually. I think I'll see you in the morning, all right?"

Before he could reply, she was running up her steps, and slamming her door behind her. She stood on the other side, panting, trying really hard not to think.

She fell asleep almost instantly, surprising considering the problems rattling her brains and slowly lifting her fingers, one by one, from where she was hanging on the edge.

* * *

_And there are times when I can't seem to understand at all._

_And yes it seems as though I'm going nowhere really fast. _


	22. Author's Note!

**Dear readers and reviewers,**

** I know it's probably irritating to have to read one of these. I hate them too... they get me all excited when I think they're another chapter but then they turn out to be the silly author writing something silly and pointless and story-postponing.**

** So, I apologize.**

** However, due to the dangerous nature of the internet, I seem to have acquired a virus on my computer that's kind of destroying it. I moved all my documents and such to a backup external hard drive, just in case my computer crashed (knowing my luck with these sorts of things, it would, right after I had written the best part...).**

** I was told to take off all my documents and music off of my computer too, because my dad's going to come in and rewire (?) my computer. Being a not-so-tech-savvy person, I have no idea what that means, but if it gets rid of the virus, then i don't care.**

** Anyways, what that means for all of you people is that I don't have my story on my computer, meaning I can't write anymore, because even if I did I wouldn't be able to save it on my computer right now.**

** Hopefully, my computer should be fixed in a week or two: I have most of the next chapter written, I'm pretty sure, and as soon as I put it back on my computer from the external hard drive I can upload it. I have the rest of the story laid out so it should be smooth sailing from here. Aren't you excited:)**

** I hope you keep reading despite the delays. It would be nice, for anyone who might be reading this, to review too--just keep me driven to upload as quickly as possible. You know, just let me know that people are reading this.**

** Soooo, I hope you've enjoyed so far, and I'm really sorry for the delays, anddd don't forget to review on your way out and encourage me to keep writing:) Love you peopleeeee.**

**-Namita**

**p.s/// thanks!! to everyone's who's reviewed in the past, or even read my story and maybe enjoyed it.  
**


	23. Keep Ya Head Up

FINALLY back in business! I am so sorry about the delay. If any of you are still following this story, I apologize from the bottom of my heart! I know it has been over a year since I last updated, but I hope some of you are still going to read this... or re-read it, or whatever. I am going to estimate about five more chapters. I know this story has been sort of all over the place, but I'm going to focus now and keep it on track. THANKS especially to my reviewers! And thanks for reading, enjoy.

* * *

Chapter 22

\\\\

_But please don't cry, dry your eyes, never let up  
Forgive but don't forget, girl keep your head up._

_Keep ya head up; child, things are gonna get easier._

_Child, things are gonna get brighter._

-Keep Ya Head Up-

.Tupac.

x----------x---------x--------x-------x------x-----x------x-------x--------x---------x----------x

When she awoke, it felt like days had passed, not nights. Though her thoughts were still a little jumbled, she felt clearer: more like herself. The feeling more than comforted her, and she sprang out of bed with new energy.

It felt like it was going to be a good day.

After she was showered and ready, she figured it would be a good time to head down to breakfast—but should she wait for Malfoy? Would it be rude if she just went? Would she be sending the wrong signals? After all, last night she hadn't been too communicative…she hoped he wasn't angry or anything. He was slightly delicate emotionally speaking. What should she do?

This was the one area in which Hermione held no expertise of any sort. So she would just have to guess.

Her stomach rumbled unhelpfully, but being the nice person she was, she decided to sit in the common room and wait. He couldn't be too long; she had heard the shower going. He would probably be done in ten minutes or so.

Her thoughts turned back to her Dumbledore problem. Now, more than ever, she felt like she needed to go talk to Harry—or one member of the Golden Trio that had helped vanquish Voldemort. They were invincible together, and that was a fact she was fully and irrevocably convinced of. She could go to Ron, she supposed, but he wasn't always the sharpest knife in the drawer. She could feel in her heart that what she really needed to do was talk to Harry, but how could she? He hated her right now.

Even that statement brought no heaviness to her heart, like it maybe should have. Honestly, she felt close to nothing, which was a little disturbing.

She had no room left to think then, because Malfoy came strolling into the room, hands in pockets, looking like the suave, slick seventh year that he was. She caught herself staring, luckily, before he did.

"Hi," She said quickly, before he could say anything.

His expression didn't change. "Hey."

She looked nervously down at her hands. She wasn't used to dealing with boys, that was for sure. And especially emotionally disturbed boys like Malfoy. Praying that he was in a good mood, because she really needed his support at the moment, she said, "I'm sorry I was acting so…um…." How to say it? She sighed. "You were right, last. Something was…is…wrong."

He continued to look at her, and it crossed her mind that he may not feel comfortable with the way she had just left it hanging, like she expected him to ask what was wrong.

"I mean," She rushed on, "That I shouldn't have been so rude and left when you were just wondering what was wrong. Sorry."

A hint of a smile at the edge of his lips…was that it? He leaned against the wall. "Silly Granger," He said, sounding almost amused. "Nothing to apologize for."

And then it occurred to her that he really hadn't taken her abruptness for rudeness—he wasn't like that. He didn't read into emotions. He wasn't _used_ to emotions. Things just slid right past him, and he either didn't care enough to or didn't know how to grab onto them. Perhaps it was easier that way, she mused. She shook her head. "Anyways, are you coming to breakfast?"

He nodded, and they walked together towards the door.

"So, what's wrong?"

The question came abruptly. They were both already out in the hallway, and the tapestry had swung shut behind them, and it had been silent.

Hermione almost jumped, in fact, she was so surprised. It was a mix—surprise at the noise, and surprise at the question. She really hadn't expected him to ask.

"Well…." She really hadn't been prepared to tell him, but she wanted to, she really, really wanted to. "I…um…I'm not…." She glanced down the empty hallway; everyone was at breakfast, and besides, nobody would be up in the Heads' hallway. Suddenly, she grabbed him and they sat down on a wooden bench, one of the ones that sporadically lined the hallways. "I'm not myself."

He looked at her questioningly, and she proceeded to tell him everything; starting from when school began, her desire to help in the war, her brief relationship with Harry that had never really been anything more than friendship, what Dumbledore had said to her, the fact that only she and him had seen Dumbledore since the previous year, the blinding light, her not being herself anymore….

When she mentioned the blinding light, she thought he might have tensed a little, and she smiled, thinking it was cute that he cared enough to be displeased by her account.

When she was done saying everything she wanted to, she took a deep breath and sat back. She was feeling especially vulnerable; she hadn't really left out anything, not even the urging she had had to run away when she felt something was following her rather than face it.

He didn't say anything. He was just looking at her, studying her face, until she looked away, unnerved by his piercing eyes. And then he put his arm around her shoulders, and she sighed in relief because it was just what she needed right now, physical comfort. Did he know that? He knew it, he knew what she needed, and she would be forever grateful.

She rested her head on his shoulder.

"It's okay to not be everyone's support system all the time." He whispered in her ear.

And she nodded, because whether he knew it or not, he was her support system right now, and she would be okay, she really would. She felt strange and new and different confiding in this almost-stranger, this boy who had once broken her heart, and what promises were there that it wouldn't happen again? But this was what she needed right now.

They sat in silence, until something that had been bugging her for a while suddenly popped out of her mouth: "Why did you act like you hated me when we came back this year?"

He was quiet so long that she was afraid she had just thought the question, and maybe not actually said it. But one look at his face suppressed that fear; she could see pain on his face. Or was it pain? She couldn't tell, because as soon as he figured out she was looking at him, it was gone.

She had said "act" in full confidence, but now it was draining. Had he really come back with genuine dislike of her? Her mind had been cooking up all sorts of plots by his father, his mother, even some crazy person like Bellatrix Lestrange that forced him to put on some sort of façade when he came back to school. But now she was starting to doubt herself.

"I'm sorry." He finally said, looking at her square in the eye.

She could tell how hard it was for him to apologize; that wasn't something he was used to doing, either. He was obviously stepping out of his comfort zone for her here, first with the physical affection, then the apology; she couldn't bear to prod more. Besides, her mood was subdued now. She wasn't mentally fierce. She would get it out of him eventually, but now wasn't the right time.

Instead, she nodded, smiled at him, and commented that they might have missed breakfast.

--

Ginny caught up with her in-between Defense Against the Dark Arts and Charms. "How was your first class with lover-boy?" The redhead wanted to know, batting her eyelashes.

Hermione laughed and nudged her friend, looking around to make sure no one had caught that. "Fine, how were your first few days with my ex-boyfriend?"

Ginny's face grew pink. "Brilliant! Excellent! He's a damn good snogger, Hermione. Honestly, you didn't tell me! I hadn't expected much, mind you, he was busy fighting off old Voldy when he should have been brushing up on his snogging skills, but he's passed with flying colors!"

Hermione burst out laughing at how freely her friend talked about her boyfriend's adeptness at kissing. "Thank you for sharing, Gin," She giggled.

The girl just smiled slyly at her. "So…how is the green goblin? Is he…." She waggled her eyebrows suggestively "_good_?"

"Ginny!" Hermione groaned. "How should _I_ know? We've been dating for a day or two."

"You've been dating _who_?" A loud voice said on the other side of Hermione.

She turned to see Ron standing there, looking confused.

"Er…" She glanced at Ginny for help. "Um, no, I was talking about Ginny and, erm, Harry."

Ron crossed his arms and looked at her, clearly not convinced, but Harry was a few steps behind him and fast approaching. Contrary to popular belief, Ron wasn't stupid _enough_ to carry on the conversation and start a brawl of some sort in the middle of the hallway.

"We'll talk later, promise," She mouthed to Ron, then turned, as Ginny was pulling on her sleeve, and walked away, leaving Harry to catch up to Ron, glance from him to Hermione and Ginny, and then grab Ron and walk in the other direction.

"Sorry," Hermione told Ginny. "You can go with Harry if you want."

Ginny rolled her eyes. "Hermione!" She complained. "Do I look like the kind of girl who would pick a boy over a friend?" Hermione looked like she was about to answer, but Ginny threw her arm around the girl and cut her off. "Sisters before misters, Herms. Sisters before misters."

Hermione laughed. "Thanks, Gin."

The younger girl threw her head back, whipping her shiny red hair. "Anytime, Hermione. Anytime."

--

Charms concluded the first half of the day, and she found herself heading towards the Great Hall for lunch before long. Honestly, could things be more awkward between her and Harry? He spent half the time whispering furiously to Ron, and half the time looking at her, she suspected, because she felt his eyes on her back. Luckily, her table partner was Seamus, who either didn't notice the situation or else felt it was better for his health to not comment on it.

If that was the case, Hermione couldn't help but allow that Seamus was somewhat smart, after all.

Yet still, she felt no adversity towards Harry. Sure, she was a little unhappy that he was acting so immature, but he was still one of her best friends, whether or not he wanted to acknowledge that minor detail. She definitely didn't hate him, and she really did want to be friends with him again, perhaps even more than she was letting herself know. The fact that he hated her didn't really cause any turmoil in her heart, though.

The Great Hall was already mostly full by the time she arrived; her daydreaming was probably the reason she had walked so slowly. As with every meal, she hoped and prayed that her seat wasn't next to Harry. She wasn't worried about getting a seat, so much, as having to sit through a meal with Harry's cold shoulder right next to her.

Relief filled her when she glanced at where Ron, Ginny, Neville, Luna, Seamus, and the like were sitting and she saw no raven-colored hair. That was strange. Why wouldn't Harry be at lunch?

Ron motioned her over, and scooted over so she could sit down between him and Luna. "Hey."

She nodded in greeting, and greeted everyone else before beginning to serve food onto the plate that had appeared in front of her.

Ron's whisper in her ear almost made her jump, but she controlled herself. "So who, may I ask, are you dating?"

Hermione's eyes grew wide, and she glanced around to make sure no one had caught that. "Um…excuse me?" She said, with some embarrassment, then put down her napkin daintily, got up, and walked out the big doors.

As expected, Ron came strolling through a few minutes later. She had taken perch against the wall near the left door, waiting.

"So?" He asked. "Hurry up, I don't want to miss lunch."

She laughed—he had probably been eating for the past ten minutes before she had gotten there. "Oh, hush. Do you want to know who I'm dating or not?"

"Yeah, tell me who the bloke is. I'll hurt him if he hurts you." Ron started rolling up his sleeves to emphasize his point.

Hermione laughed again, and briefly wondered if he would say the same thing about Harry, if Harry had been the one to hurt her—which he kind of had, except that she wasn't really hurting. "Guess."

"Oh, come on, Herms!"

"Have a go at it!" She grinned. "What have you got to lose?"

He mumbled something incoherent under his breath, then grumbled, "Fine. Me?" He smirked.

"Prat!" She giggled. "Honestly!"

He shook his head. "I haven't the foggiest idea. Can I have a hint?"

"He's your height, and he plays Quidditch. There, two hints."

"My height, and plays Quidditch, and he's a boy…." Ron trailed off as he began to put two and two together. Malfoy was the only boy Quidditch player at the school (that he knew about) that could out-tower him. His eyes grew wide. "I can only think of one, but you'd have to be nutters to go out with him! I must be missing someone. Is this some bloke that we never knew existed?"

She shook her head. "You know him."

Ron gasped. "You've gone wonky, haven't you? I reckon we'd better take a trip down to Madame Pomfrey…."

"Ron!" She laughed. "I'm fine, and he's not that bad once you get to know him! At least he's not a git like you." She joked.

"Oh, really? Last time I checked, he was at the top of your Git List!"

"My Git List?" She repeated, laughing. "Honestly, Ronald."

He rolled his eyes at her use of his full name. "I swear to Merlin, Hermione, if he does _anything_ to you, we'll kill him."

She didn't miss the implication of the statement. Her tone grew heavy. "You mean you'll kill him, because Harry doesn't want anything to do with me right now, much less be my avenger."

He was quiet. Finally he put his hand on her arm and looked at her, and said quietly, "He can't stay like that forever, Herms. He'll come around, eventually."

She nodded; all the pain that she hadn't felt before was threatening to show itself now. Her face crinkled, and she felt the tears stinging the back of her eyes. She hadn't cried for him yet; but she felt like it was going to happen now. He _was_ one of her best friends, or used to be, at least, she thought, depressed; and she didn't take well to losing friends. It was like losing a piece of her, because she really did invest herself in each of her friends, most especially Harry and Ron.

She felt Ron hugging her and was immensely grateful for him. Draco knew how to physically comfort at the simplest level and only when he was forced. But Ron had grown up in an environment where physical contact was plentiful and usually unavoidable. The Weasley family was touchy-feely, and how could it not be with so many people in a cozy place like the Burrow?

It helped stem the tears, but she still felt a few dribbling down her face onto Ron's shoulder as he bent down to accommodate her.

"Ron!" She half-sobbed, trying to keep the tears in check. "I can't stand it."

He didn't reply, because he was always awkward when it came to crying girls. Hermione suspected that that was half the reason he tended to always hug them—if he was hugging someone, he didn't have to look at their face. Then it was easier to stay silent and then he didn't have to think up anything brilliant to say. The other half was, of course, that it was the only safe thing he knew to do.

She finally managed to get the few straggler tears dried off her face and compose herself. She wasn't going to break down just outside the Great Hall—she had more dignity than that, at least. She let go of Ron and stepped back, trying to smile. "I suppose he will have to come around eventually, won't he?"

It was only October. They would have this solved by the end of the school year, no doubt; it was just a case of…well…clearly he was upset, but she didn't really understand why or why he would be acting so childish and unlike himself. He was usually the more mature out of the two, between himself and Ron. It was possible that something else was happening with him, but if he didn't want to share, there was nothing Hermione could do at this point. She didn't have the energy to go sleuthing and he wasn't acting stupid enough to get her to bully it out of him.

Anyways, there was no point in dwelling on it now. She had to get to classes and then plan her trip to the Restricted Section. If only she had Harry's Invisibility Cloak….

"What are you thinking about?" Ron asked.

She started, not realizing she had been daydreaming. She clucked her tongue. "I haven't told you anything at all about the light, have I?"

He just looked confused.

She sighed and proceeded to tell him all about Dumbledore's visit and what he had said to her. "I don't know what's going on with him. Harry told me that nobody's seen Dumbledore since last year except Draco and I when he showed us our dorms, which isn't usually a duty he takes upon himself; and he came and visited me, and that was it. But there was something strange about him, up until he told me to not get blinded by the light. I don't even understand what that means. In any case, I'm going to have to slip into the Restricted Section tonight and take a look at the books there."

"Hermione…you really shouldn't get into this alone. It sounds dangerous, and you'd have to be thick to get yourself all mixed up. This coming from _me_, the dunce of all dunces."

Hermione rolled her eyes, ignoring how unlike himself he was acting. How like…Harry. "Whatever, Ron. I'll be fine. Anyway, I can come to you, can't I? And Draco's in my dorm, so I've got him, and he's pretty strong, you have to admit. I'll have to cast as best a Disillusionment Charm as I can, because Harry's obviously not going to let me take his Invisibility Cloak."

"I can nick it for you." Ron offered with a grin.

She laughed—he was sounding more like himself, at least. "That's quite all right. I won't have you going and getting yourself hexed. I'll be fine, in any case."

"If you get caught, you can kiss your Head Girl badge good-bye." Ron pointed out as they headed back towards the Great Hall doors.

"Ron! I'd hardly think _you_, of all people, would think of something like that."

He shrugged, and they moved off the subject as they went back to eat.

Hermione glanced around as they sat; her eyes immediately were drawn to two places: one, to look for Harry and make sure he still hadn't shown up, and two, to the Slytherin table, to look for Malfoy.

To her complete astonishment, she found that they were both M.I.A. Harry, maybe, she could understand—he probably wanted the awkward situation just as little as she did. But where could Malfoy be?

The meal passed by quickly. She wanted to get out of there as quickly as possible to go search for the missing boys, because for some reason she felt like she needed to, and as soon as possible.

But they kept her engaged in conversation, her tablemates, and wouldn't let her leave. Lunch ended way too soon, and then she had to head back to classes—double Potions. Well, at least that was good. Hopefully both Harry and Malfoy would be there, and she could stop worrying.

She walked to the dungeons with Ron, and they just talked about general things as they went. They didn't delve back into Hermione's current social problems, nor did they discuss her issue regarding Dumbledore and the like. It was refreshingly normal, and Hermione found herself repeatedly wishing that things could go back to how they used to be. Sure, life wouldn't be a challenge then—but at least it would be manageable.

And then she had to fight the urge to hit herself. Since when did she prefer _manageable_ over _challenging_? Really, this was starting to freak her out.

They entered the classroom and took their seats. Hermione happily took her seat next to Malfoy; she noticed Vlad giving her a curious look, as she usually sat down with the frigid expression she used to wear when she knew she was about to encounter the blonde-haired boy.

Malfoy came in a few minutes later, looking a bit harrowed. "Hey." He greeted absentmindedly as he sat down, smoothing his slightly rumpled robes.

She narrowed her eyes. "Where were you at lunch?" She didn't fail to notice that his usually impeccable appearance was less than perfect right now. She was pretty sure it was his cardinal rule not to be seen in public looking anything less than godly.

"Had to take care of some things." He answered vaguely. "With the boys."

She continued to look at him.

He sighed exasperatedly. "Fine." He smoothed his robes again. "I tried for some extra Quidditch practice time. Figured the pitch wouldn't be taken during lunch."

She took in his disheveled appearance again, and then smiled. Why was she so pushy and suspicious? He was only playing _Quidditch_. "Sorry. Just curious."

He cocked an eyebrow at her, but then turned his head when somebody said his name.

A paper dragon—how ironic in that it was a dragon and also that it looked like a Norwegian Ridgeback, though she couldn't be sure—landed gracefully on her desk and opened its mouth as if spitting fire before stilling, the charm having worn off the paper.

She opened it carefully, raising an eyebrow as she realized it was warm to the touch. Whoever had sent this to her had a sense of humor, that was for sure, she thought as she dropped it quickly. It had almost burnt her fingers. She scowled at it as it sat on her desk and mocked her, still in the shape of a dragon.

A few seconds later, she picked it up again; now it was completely cool. She opened it, trying not to rip it, and read the neat cursive inside:

_Admit it, you're a bit amused._

_Even _you_ can't be adverse to a bit of mischievous magic—although, after hanging around with the Wonder Twins for so long, you must have more than your fill of backfired spells, so I can see where you might not find this sort of thing entertaining._

_In any case, I am formally extending my welcome to the most exhilarating experience Hogwarts has to offer. _

_You'll enjoy yourself, I'm sure._

_Yours,_

_BZ_


End file.
